


Wake Up Call

by SnowRayjah



Series: Rated T for Turks [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 08:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 27,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowRayjah/pseuds/SnowRayjah
Summary: I was used to getting calls in the wee hours of the morning. But it didn’t mean I appreciated it. When Rude calls, you know its trouble and I have exactly three seconds before the WRO busts in my door. I don’t know what’s worse – the fact that this is serious and we treat it like a game; or the fact that Mr. Tuesti thinks he can beat us. [Sequel to Pride]





	1. Caught You In the Morning

A lot can happen in three seconds. I do not understand what is happening at first, I only feel tension as Rude gives a hurried message on the other end of the line.

“Get out of there.” He pauses to look at his watch, there’s something surreal about his voice. I think I must be dreaming. But it quickly breaks to urgency. “You have three seconds.”

The line goes dead and in normal cases I’d have clicked it shut and thrown it across the room. I’d have gone in to work in four hours and yelled at Reno for putting Rude up to such a thing. But I didn’t.

It feels oddly similar to one of his and Reno’s tests. It feels oddly similar to an experience I’ve lived before and I wonder what the hell we’ve done to deserve this. _Alexander_ I mumble, my eyes barely glance at the clock, but I am wondering who in their right mind times such things.

I am not sure how I manage between the PHS and whatever it is happening outside, but as the white uniforms rush in I am already out the window and up the fire escape. I her the steady beats of my salvation but they are still quite a bit away, I hear men and women screaming behind me, and I thank everything I have ever known that there is nothing incriminating and nothing of importance in that damn apartment. Everything of importance is with me.

The cold chill of the morning air is relaxing but I am still annoyed but the sounds of boots that are hurrying up the steps behind me. I swear if I have to jump I’m going to be pissed.  
There are four of them, maybe five. I can’t quite tell in the dark. But, I feel extra energy, more than I can possibly handle. Or more than they think I can possibly handle but regardless something has to be done and there will be blood.

“Freeze!”

I can’t believe this. I stand utterly shocked that _they_ should be giving _me_ orders after everything I’ve done to help out their company. After everything I’ve done, after, three days ago when I made them look like complete fools in front of a tour group.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, and it is something that the WRO children would not understand. Not like I did, not like the Turks had trained me. Revenge was an appetizer in our business. You play in the kitchen too much and you’re going to get burned.

I raise my hands and step onto the ledge.

I’d rather die than be captured by children in this cowboy and Indian charade.

“Don’t move,”

I know his name. It’s something like David or Davis, but I am not one hundred percent certain which it is. I ponder for a moment.

“We don’t want to hurt you.”

I laugh.

“Please, Miss Rayjah, step down from the ledge.”

I think I start to get angry, because they are treating me like some nut job. And it saddens me I know what I’m doing.

I step back one more time. The idea of falling should terrify me shitless. I haven’t been afraid of dying for some time now. I think it would be so very releasing and I sigh as my hands clasp and grasp Mikari’s on the way down.

She pulls me up and points to the next building. The chopper is waiting there – I assume with Reno at the wheel.

There’s more screaming but it’s difficult to hear over the helicopter blades. All I know is that Mikari is guiding me through steps and staircases and by the time my eyes have caught up she’s pulling me into a truck and telling Reno to floor it.

I look quizzically at her.

“Diversion.” She simply answers.

“They’ll be more worried about the chopper than us, at this point.” Reno echoes. “You okay?”

“Tired,” I groan. “But alive, nonetheless.”

It doesn’t even strike me as odd that Rude is not there. I feel safe and relaxed, but there is no way I’ll be able to sleep. My mind spins in possibilities. What purpose could this serve?

Only to prove we are bad guys, I reason. And I wonder if Reeve is willing to play this game out to the end.


	2. Did I do the Wrong Thing?

_Three Days Ago…_

I sigh as I pull on the jeans and tank top – I am to look like a high school student, and I swear at Tseng for calling attention to the fact that while I am in my twenties I look no older than sixfuckingteen.

Elena braids my hair, she fucking braids it, she’s gentle and she brushed it, and I can’t help but think _insult to injury_. And if I survive this stupid parade through the WRO I am going to kill them _all_.

“Hold still.” Elena instructs and I feel the force that should be there if she had intended to hit me with the hair brush. It stops just short of my shoulder; she gets points for thinking better of it.

I want to say something along the lines of ‘Well then hurry up and we wouldn’t have this problem’, but Tseng’s looking over at me with _the look_. It tells me to behave and I imagine it’s easy for him to look so smug when I’m doing all the hard work.

“You think this will work?” Reno comments, more for his own amusement than my salvation.

“As long as Reeve doesn’t catch her.” Tseng replies honestly. Because we all know Reeve and he knows all of us. But those toy soldiers he has wouldn’t know one way or another.

I chuckle, _toy soldiers_ , and that’s all they would ever be. Ready to destroy, ready to melt, their life didn’t matter because their end was always the same. To me they are really just the same as SOLDIER, well, _almost_ the same. SOLDIER was competent, super human, strong, invincible. They were more like G.I. Joe. Action kung-fu grip and all.  
Oh how my mind wanders when trying to cool my temper.

“Don’t worry; I won’t be caught by Mr. Dolls.” And the room stops dead silent. But not because I had said it, but because they are saddened – appalled even – that they understood exactly whom I was referring too.

“I hope not.”

Tseng’s voice sounds more demanding than hopeful. He half expects Reeve to be suspecting an infiltration, but if they had done things our way and allowed us to do the inspection as per our orders we would not be in this mess.

Really, Reeve Tuesti started it.

I was quick to jump to conclusions, I shouldn’t have been. But we all knew the numbers. We all knew it was hard for seven of us to save the entire world when even two extra men from the WRO would have made all the difference. Sorry I can’t fly, sorry I can’t heal, and I am so sorry that I cannot stop a fucking train with my bare hands. _Sue me_ , at least I was doing something.

Shinra had always been about action. Adversely the WRO was starting to scream of inaction. And I think that’s why I was sitting there in front of Elena getting my hair brushed and braided against every belief I had ever had.

After Elena is done with me, Mikari paints my nails in annoying pinks and oranges. Reminding me that teens have no fashion sense or color coordination. I look at the sparkles and wonder if I’d ever done that myself – back in the day. No memory surfaces, its just forced lunches, escaping out windows, suits, and traveling. _Alexander_ the Turks had taken up a lot of my life.

Nothing had really changed.

Rude jolts me to attention by giving me the frilliest, fluffiest, pinkest bag I have ever seen. Ever, there were no words to describe how much I loathed that thing, and there were even less to question how _Rude_ had gotten it.

He catches the look in my eye, choosing only to clear his throat in response. I nod slowly, unsurely, but I understand.

I look around the empty apartment, the Turks leave one by one, and I wonder how many more throw away rooms we have. There’s something elegant about the way it is decorated. There’s really nothing too it – a couch, a table, some chairs. It looks like no one has actually lived in it at all. But I think the simplicity of it strikes me as simply beautiful.

I should know this feeling, this design, everything, I should know it well. And it feels foreign and forced. This place would not last a week and I knew it. But if it was because _we_ burned it or _they_ did, I was uncertain.

It’s amazing how close the WRO building is from here. Advantages come to easily as a Turk. I walk the sidewalk ignoring the other children and teens on their way to the WRO open house Tour.

The banner reads “Restoring the World – One Person at a Time”

That black and white cat that always follows Reeve around is on it. He looks inviting, cuddly, it’s almost sickening and I love cats. I bet the Shinra animal would be more akin to a lion…or…Sephiroth. And my mind puts two and two together for a cross breeds that only sadists like Hojo could actually create.

I shuffle in with four boys about my ‘age’. The tour is boring beyond belief, they drone on about restoring the world, finding reusable resources, and benefitting all people. They even include college scholar ships for high school students who sign up with them. It sounded inviting, and again I am reminded of the Sephiroth-Lion. And I know that if anyone knew what Cait Sith and some of the other workers here really did – they’d see the same thing as me.

They were a less glamorous copy of Shinra.

“’Scuse me Sir?”

The child is about seven or eight. She’s got her little clipboard and pen – she looks like a small journalist.

The tour guide – David – smiles. “Yes ma’am?”

He’s surprisingly cordial for a man, surprisingly bright for a tour guide. I know a crooked smile when I see one.

“I’m writing a article for my classroom paper. I was wondering,” she pauses to look at her notes, which we are all positive the teacher helped her with. “Does the WRO use…force or weapons to get what they want?”

David looks at her long and hard for several seconds. He is a good man, respectable even, we can tell. His answer rolls of his tongue as though it has been practiced a million times, just like every other response he has given.

“Of course not, we here at the WRO believe healing is what is needed. We never force ourselves upon anyone. We want to help the world, restore it, not lose it. And force would drive people away.”

It works well for an eight year old. And Alexander bless the sixteen year old boy standing next to me.

“You get paid to lie?” he inquires, “My uncle works here. He’s got a gun in case of attack. I think everyone does. If you’re peaceful why do you need them?”

“No sir.” David’s face becomes grim and dark. “We do not use weapons to get what we want. We use words and calm minds.”

He’s avoiding the question.

“So then let me guess?” The boy continues, “You think guns _kill_ people?”

It is apparent that while only sixteen, this boy, sides with _us_. In fact he remembers the WRO not quite being able to help people in Kalm when it was attacked by deep ground. He remembers they had guns that they did not resort to calm minds and words.

I figure I should save this kid, at the very least, in a few years he’ll be a co-worker.

“Guns don’t kill people,” all eyes are on me, “People kill people. A gun cannot physically shoot itself; it takes a person, to pull the trigger.”

“Now, Miss,” David pauses.

“Rayjah.” I offer, “It’s true. You know it. I’ve never seen a gun jump off a table and shoot someone.”

He sighs, because there is no right answer to this discussion. “Miss Rayjah, this is beside the point. We are a friendly environment.”

“You look it,” I agree, “But the question was if you used force or weapons to get what you wanted. You _lied_. You avoided his questions altogether.”

I notice a growing number of white uniforms.

“At least Shinra never denied using force.”

“They blamed it on terrorists.” David argues.

“It’s not my fault people will believe what they want to hear. And terrorists always shed light on the truth. You, sir,” my finger points, “Are a liar and I am shedding light to this. The WRO is simply the new Shinra under a less colorful flag.”

They escort me out where Reeve is waiting.

“Good Afternoon Mr. Tuesti.” I smile warmly.

“What are you doing here?”

“My job. You?”

His arms cross and I imagine he’s deciding on what to say. He says nothing only waves a hand for them to show me out of the building.

Mikari and Elena are waiting for me. They hand me some coffee and we make our way down the street.

“How long do we give them before they react?” I ask.

“A few days at most.” Mikari replies, “I think Reeve has to figure out how many more Turks are inside.”

I nod slowly, “Well, I’m out.”

“Rude’s finished too.” Elena informs.

“That just leaves Reno…”

 _Present Time.._  
I plop into the chair with a sigh; my head rests on my arms as I look up at Tseng and Rufus.

“Is this proof enough?” I inquire with a yawn.

I do not hear a reply


	3. Oh What Was I thinking?

Days and missions blur into one. It feels more like a game now than it ever has and I wonder how Reeve would feel about being dubbed the Black King, with Yuuta Miura as the Black Queen – and all I know for certain is that it would not play out well should we divulge that little secret.

I don’t actually know Miura, I never plan to meet with him and the fact we are on opposing sides enforces the idea our paths crossing will only end in bloodshed. Most likely my blood. I do not feel I can fight him, he’s a terror, I hear. And I prefer not to meet such a man. If at all possible, I’d like to avoid him.

I am almost shocked that we make it up to the office with little trouble, more discomforting is that Reeve is willing to talk to us. I attribute this to Rude and nothing more. My mind flies with ideas and solutions, but none of them are plausible. Not anymore, I believe that Reeve has lost all sense.

I believe he has forgotten that Shinra has given him the WRO. If not for Shinra, Reeve Tuesti would have nothing.

Rude prefers to let me do the talking.

“Mr. Tuesti,” His hand stretches to the chair, but I refuse, “We want a peaceable end to our conflicts.” Something about the look on his face bothers me.

“You are making the conflict more than we are.” He believes his words so much I feel they might be true.

“And here we are reaching out in good faith.” I chide, “If we all want the same thing then why are we fighting?”

“Obviously,” there is a pause as though he is thinking. And I’m sure Rude is catching on as well. “We do not desire the same things.”

I have no response, because clearly, Reeve has read _my_ mind.

My hand reaches for my gun; it is the solution to all of our problems. The barrel rests on his head. There is a familiar feeling of dread and demise attached to this action. Rude mans the door and I can’t help but feel uncertain.

I know I should pull the trigger and be done with this. _I know I should_. I don’t. My hand re-holsters the weapon.

“We have a problem.” I voice, Rude’s already looking for an escape route. The doors are locked, but the problem is the toy soldiers on the other side. The problem is the civilians that we have no orders to spare or kill.

The problem is we are on the top fucking floor.

And what once was Reeve Tuesti reading my mind is now me predicting my own demise. “Rude,” I breathe slowly, “Do you trust me?”

“More than I should.” He admits. His eyes focus on the Reeve. By now we know it’s not him, we know it’s a fake, we know its one of those damn Reeve suits. But we saw it too late. And it takes Rude a minute longer than me to process that we’re dead if we don’t do something quick. His eyes refocus on the window, mine focus on the target.

We have one chance at surviving and even then our odds are slim to none.

I hear Rude subconsciously count and as the timer goes down it pauses on one.

My outstretched hand is half grasping at the object my eyes unblinking and half dazed. It is tense and forced to keep in position. If I say anything my concentration will break and the stop spell will shatter sending the explosive timer to its task.

He knows what I am doing and he wonders how that’s supposed to help at all. He doesn’t think much longer before grabbing me and exiting the only way we know how. The glass shatters about him; he’s got me held so tightly that I only blink once I know we’re two stories down. I only blink when I know we’re _safe_.

And my hand loosens and the explosion destroys the entire top floor of that damn building. I’d have loved to revel in that for a minute, but, the realization comes quickly. They say it is not the jump that kills you, but the sudden stop at the bottom. I will be damned if Rude and I don’t make it out of this **alive**.

I repeat myself, because, hell, we’re going to die anyways.

“Do you trust me?”

And he doesn’t care anymore, because he knows we’re both as good as dead too.

“More than I should.”

I don’t know if it’s possible to hold someone more than I held onto Rude at that moment. Because I’d be hard pressed to believe it. Turks didn’t die as heroes. We knew no such luxury.

Then again, we hardly knew death unless it was dancing off our fingertips for some other poor fool.

My magic had grown over the years, things had manifested, ideas had been worked and energy had been manipulated. And Rude may never know more than he knew now how true his words had been. They were lucky to have me on their side.

What he doesn’t know is that I can only do this once and if I botch it – we **are** dead. I know of a protective summon, Alexander my divinity. And I know of a summon that is gracious beyond compare, Hades my salvation.

The best way to fight death is with its Lord and neither Rude nor I recognize the words that come out of my mouth. But the sound is something or someone calling for help. A lot can happen in three seconds.

Suddenly the words make sense – Black Cauldron.

Time seems to stop, everything is stationary, I am inclined to believe (but not quite certain) that Rude and I are included in this oddity.

A ghastly hand reaches out around us. A thick black fog clouds our eyes; we feel the gentle touch of death set us down. Rude’s back is to the wall, I sit in his arms still clinging tightly to his form. The dark energy that had come is now gone and time catches up with itself as though not a moment was missed or spared.

I do not know who breathes first. But I do know that I will not be conscious too much longer. His face does not show it but his body trembles in confusion. He sets me down out of habit and I give a nod in the same fashion.

I can hardly stand at all and it’s probably for the best that my body has not quite come to that realization.

He’s handling this better than I am. He catches me as my knees buckle beneath my weight. I cough, it hurts, I’ve strained my energy and my body what feels like beyond repair.

My breaths are short and labored, I feel like I’ve woken up from one of my nightmares.

And it bothers me because I was wide awake. It bothers me that Rude was there, and it bothers me that neither of us have anything to say.

The door opens to reveal Tseng and Rufus. I collapse at their feet and I wish I could have heard what they were saying, because poor Rude can only manage a simple response.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”


	4. Is His Heart Still Beating?

There is something unnatural about her tone as it carries to my ears. I am used to be scolded, I am used to Mikari but the two together create a weird harmony as my mind barely registers the words. She sighs and sits down with a plop.

My world is covered in darkness, I cannot see a thing. I realize I must be passed out or something, some form a comatose. The steady beep..…beep……beep……..beep – confirms many things for me. I must be in pretty bad shape.

“You of all people,” Mikari continues, though they are the first words I truly understand, “should have know it was not the real Reeve.”

I can’t deny that her words are untrue. I couldn’t argue, I could barely move. But I find it amusing because she’s half right. I _should_ have known. Unfortunately Reeve is smarter than I give him credit for.

If a person keeps an object around them long enough it begins to feel like them. Energy sticks, most people just don’t realize it. It’s an old trick, it’s troublesome, and I admit this is probably my fault anyways. Energy is energy and sometimes I can’t distinguish.

She sighs again as though she’s been trying to reason with me and finding it impossible.

I see her close her eyes in thought, but I still haven’t opened my own. I see her clearly in my mind and I know that she’s really just concerned but isn’t sure how to show it.

“You should have just busted through the doorway and killed every idiot in your way.” Mikari continues, every idiot clearly denoting _everyone_. She mumbles something she thinks I can’t hear, “It would have been safer that way…”

My heart beat spikes. The beeps grow steadier and she jumps up her boots screeching across the tile. She’s gotten a reaction out of me. My job is not to kill everyone and she knows how I feel about wasting energy and time.

It’s not a waste to have me in this hospital bed, Rude’s alive and so am I.

“Barely.” Mikari argues as though she can read my mind.

My hand twitches to try and wave her off. I think she can only smile as I try to force myself awake.

While Mikari waits with me in the hospital Tseng holds a meeting in his office, only Reno and Rude are present.

“What do you think?” Tseng looks directly at Reno.

His eyes look to the desk and he crosses his arms. The seriousness looks uncharacteristic, but his words ring true, “She’s an idiot. We’re not about heroism. If she wants to kill herself for the greater good she needs another job.”

Rude says nothing.

“Harsh as your words may be, I agree.” Tseng confirms.

Again Rude says nothing.

“She’s set us back; we’ve spent more time trying to keep her safe than anything else lately.” Reno continues, “If she’s going to go all noble, she can do it on her own fucking time.” He pauses, “I didn’t train her to do stupid shit like that.”

There is silence for several minutes before Reno picks back up.

“Turks get the job _done_. She’s failed at that, Tuesti is still alive and well, the WRO functioning normally, if not better than before. We shouldn’t have sent the Princess.”

Rude clears his throat.

Tseng and Reno focus on him as though they had forgotten he was there at all.

He doesn’t like speeches, but the way Reno keeps talking makes him want to wring his neck. “The job’s not done, _yet_. And you haven’t done any better.”

He stands up and leaves the office. Tseng knows this is anger from both of them. Reno is mad it came down to something like this and Rude is mad because he doesn’t know any other emotion to get through the situation.

The door shuts with a loud thump; Rude may as well have used full force and slammed it.

“How much longer are you going to push buttons, Reno?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Reno reassures, “But since he was there, I suppose it could be I insulted him. But…”

Tseng knows Reno’s words really mean, ‘If we keep giving her the chance she’d die for us. I don’t want that to happen.’ They sound harsh and it’s easy to misconstrue them – especially for Rude who would be ‘on trial’ because the mission was failed.

“But if not for her, we’d be out two TURK operatives. And therefore set back further.” Tseng scolds lightly, as if opening another, less thought of and liked, possibility.

He wanted to say ‘had they done the job right it we wouldn’t be having this discussion’, but he didn’t – because there was no right protocol in situations like that. He had gone through the report, he knew what happened there. And it was silly, stupid, little mistakes that put them here.

“We’re still out one.” Reno argues.

_She’s awake._

The text flashes brilliantly and Reno clicks the PHS shut. “One and a half,” he corrects. “She’s still down for the count right now.”

“She’ll be up soon enough, I’d wager.”

The two share a sigh. The door opens and Rude steps back into the room.

“The WRO is headed to apprehend the suspect of the bombing.” He looks like he wants to be sent to the hospital to make a few idiots pay.

“Elena and Mikari are already there, let’s let them handle this.” Tseng decides. “I assume they will be expecting _you_ as well. We can’t let them have everything they want.”


	5. I Never Would Have Made It

I’m barely awake when Elena enters the room. The hospital door shuts quietly behind her. I do not know what is happening, I barely hear her and Mikari talking. Mikari contemplates, her thoughts are almost physical.

“We really don’t have a choice.” Mikari says, “Snow wouldn’t want to do this _my_ way. And she’ll be mad about this. **But** , we’re already out of time.

Elena groans lightly, she knows better. But she also feels that Mikari is right.

Or maybe it’s more that I’m no longer numb. The problem lies there; I feel the needle in the vein. I feel the surge of energy.

I. Cannot. Stand. MP. Injections.

If they are doing this it must be bad.

Whatever it was. Because I can’t feel a thing beyond the frantic behavior Elena is putting forth with a needle in my arm. Mikari is shuffling about – maybe trying to open the window. I really hope she can’t get it opened, I’m tired of windows.

It’s an odd feeling to be completely drained of all energy to being full. To being ready, to being… _hyper_. Shit. It’s not just MP, but a hyper. And I can feel the fury rising in my blood system. I never did well on hypers, and I can’t stand tranquilizers. It was everything I was to feel without being over sensitive or numb. It was almost like being able to do anything with not repercussions. _Almost._.

Thoughts swirl about me, but if they’re my own I am uncertain of it.

 _Kill them all._ Anger.

 _Should we even be doing this?_ Hesitation.

 _Idiots._ Mikari.

 _It’s just up ahead._ Guidance.

 _Make this quick._ Demands.

 _If I die, I’m going to be pissed._ Possibilty.

 _Can we really afford to be fighting this war?_ Contemplation.

 _It’s Shinra’s fault._ Blame.

 _Damn those Turks._ Misguided.

 _Hurry, hurry, Be careful._ Elena.

 _Make it stop._ This is the only one I recognize as my own.

And after about ten or so more I jolt awake as Elena and Mikari try to rescue me from the IV and monitors. My eyes roll trying to regain the state we like to call consciousness. I gasp for air as though I haven’t actually had a breath in years.

My second breath is long; I hold the air in for a moment before exhaling very slowly.

I choke on my words. The only thing anyone understands, “Mikari.”

“Don’t worry, we’re getting you out of here.” She smiles, but I know she’s hiding something.

“Why?” I can stick with single word responses.

“Idiots.” She answers.

Mikari helps me up while Elena grabs a wheel chair. It’s a foreign object to me.

“But?”

“I know,” Mikari agrees, “You’re not well yet. But you won’t get better here.”

She looks down the hall – to the left then to the right.

“Below.” I say.

She smiles again. “Looks like you’re recovering more like this anyways.”

“Forced.” I gulp hard, I feel like choking on my heart, or vomiting my organs. I’m not sure which is less pleasant but they both suck.

“Left,” Mikari decides as Elena wheels the chair, as though I have said nothing at all.

“Mikari.” I say. My voice is slow and unsteady. I’m still waking up.

She looks back and presses the button for the elevator. My face pales. My eyes begin to water. I have no control, and I hate it.

“Behind.” I inform.

She turns on her heels, Elena doing the same.

“Looks like we weren’t fast enough.” Elena comments.

“I can make a path.” Mikari disagrees, her wrist snapping and her comet materia beginning to glow.

“No.” _Not in the hospital Mikari! There are too many people not involved in this. Don’t hurt them. We don’t have orders too._

She wants to ignore me once more. Simply because orders or not, we need out of here. The other people were not on her priority list.

“Image.” _It would hurt our image to do it this way. Shinra may not recover if we look like the bad guys any more than necessary._

Mikari stops, a sigh escaping her lungs. She gives me a look that says we will discuss my stubbornness later. And this better not be more troublesome than it is worth – because her way was easy.

The WRO will not open fire, despite holding their weapons in position. They will not risk the negative image. There are fifteen of them, fifteen men and women to bring Me in. I don’t know why, but I feel it. I know who they want.

“Go.” I may as well just go with the WRO, it’s not like they’d get anything from me anyways.

I shakily stand ready to prove my point. I move away from the chair and Mikari helps me to stand properly on my own. My eyes don’t register the action as much as my body does. Elena kicks the chair towards the soldiers. Mikari jams the elevator button and I’m pulled in as the two silver doors shut.

Mikari and Elena smiling and waving to the men after us.

**Emergency stop**

She presses the button and Elena forces the emergency flap open. They pull me up and I’m finding my voice more and more.

“The hell?”

Mikari can’t help but smile, “We’re not going down without a fight. They’ll be in the other elevator waiting downstairs.”

I don’t want to climb up the elevator shaft. Sadly, I won’t have too. Elena forces a vent open and I’m ushered inside behind the blonde, with the dark haired girl behind me. I sigh.

They already have a plan, and they already expected me to react the way I had. It’s a hallway; they all look the same to me. I can’t quite tell if I’m mad for being dragged around or happy because if they hadn’t been there I’d be in WRO custody.

All I know is that with out Mikari and Elena, as odd as their tactics seemed to me, I wouldn’t have made it this far.

Elena pulls a lighter from her pocket, Mikari slips a ring on and she leans in to whisper to me.

“Princess, we need a little help.”

And I can’t manage a thing in my state.

But the water starts to rain down as the flames dance on the emergency sprinkler system. The alarm echoes through the empty halls. I shiver in my hospital gown; the water builds about my feet.

I have no control. And I hate it. The ice begins to dance from Elena’s bangle as I feel the soldiers moving closer. This is a reaction that I would normally control. The water freezes as it is meant too. Elena is unharmed, Mikari as well. And I’m shocked they use me to such ends for my own escape.

I swear if we head out that window I won’t be able to control myself. I’ll kill us all. I’m pulled to the emergency stairs with Mikari as my guide. I hear the screeching of a desk sliding across the ice as Elena forces it to the men who can barely stand on the ice.

At least I don’t have to worry about catching a cold.

I chuckle, I can’t believe this. This puts a whole new meaning to winging it.

It is not flashy, there are no explosions, there is nothing short of some innocent brilliance. This is simple, this is my way, and I’m almost happy as my feet pad down some six flights of stairs.

There’s a problem.

“They’re expecting us Mikari.” I huff, I gasp, because dammit, I was bed ridden twenty minutes ago.

“I know.” Is all she says before opening the door to our capture.

And all I see is one truck. A single truck with a driver and a passenger. They look like people I know, but all this running has made me tired. Mikari sits me comfortable.

“Alexander that took you guys long enough!” she’s indignant but also pleased. She’s got an air of superiority about her – and it’s hard to tell if it’s feigned or she’s born with it. I’d know if I could see her.

The driver does not speak for a moment. “You called me away for this?” She feigns her irritation, but I know she feels it. Once a Turks always a Turks.

Elena climbs in next to us. I feel the vehicle move, but I don’t know where we’re going. Only that it’s somewhere safe.


	6. And It's Not My Fault

There is something oddly nostalgic about waking up in a place that I am familiar with. It has nothing that should remind me of anything, and I simply do not know where I am. But I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel like home. It’s funny, in an odd sort of way, not so much as a laughing kind, but I can’t help but feel stupid for considering the office “home”.

I feel cold, like someone left the window open or I’ve been out in the wind all day. I don’t even remember the last time I saw the sun. Actually, the last thing I remember at all is the crashing of glass as Rude and I were falling out of the window. And then an explosion, there are some sketchy details – death, hospitals and the WRO. But I can’t tell you how they play in and I don’t think it’s relevant as I shiver.

I haven’t been this cold in a long time.

I blink slowly, eyes staring up at the ceiling. It looks so weird, unfamiliar. But I can’t recall how many times anyone has actually stopped to look up at it. It strikes me a moment later, the lights are off.

That could explain why it’s so weird for me. It’s usually lit to an annoyingly bright level. One that makes me understand why Rude wears his sunglasses all the time.

I hear breathing across the office. It’s not unfamiliar. When we felt too lazy or tired to go home we’d just crash here. It had everything we needed. It must be really late, or really early. I can’t tell, I realize, I have no sense of time.

I hear him turn over.

He looks at me.

I feel it.

“You still asleep over there, Princess?”

I smile.

“No, but I think I’d rather be.”

He smiles.

“Glad you’re awake.” Reno yawns and stretches he sits next to me. His hand rests on my forehead as though he’s checking my temperature. “You’re still running a fever.”

“It’s freezing in here.” I argue.

He closes his mouth. “That’s the problem with hyper.”

I nod slowly accepting his help up and my eyes don’t quite adjust to his face. But his eyes seem to glow.

I don’t want to talk about it.

“How long have I been asleep?”

Reno looks at his watch. “Only Fourteen hours. No big deal.”

 _Only?_ I groan, I shouldn’t feel tired after that much sleep. But hten again it could have been too much. The explosion plays in my mind again. “Is Rude alright?”

“Rude?” Reno inquires as though this concern is somehow foreign. “Yeah, he’s fine. You should be more worried about yourself.”

 

 _Maybe_. But I hate worrying about myself. I don’t want to focus on me, then I might have to admit there’s something wrong.

The light clicks on and blinds me. I hiss at Tseng. I hiss and swear.

He looks up from his paper work. Looks at Reno then to me.

“I thought you guys were going to take her home?”

Reno shrugs as I struggle to get my vision back. _Bastards_ , I groan.

“Yeah, well Rude wasn’t sure it was safe.” Reno’s hand ruffles my hair, “And we don’t want our princess getting captured.”

I can’t stand when he denotes princess to damsel in distress. But I suppose they have every right too – I’ve lost count of how many times they’ve saved me.

“How are you feeling Snow?” Tseng inquires, he sounds like he’s in front of me.

“Go to hell.” I bite. It’s so bright it fucking hurts. And I want to stand up and slap the crap out of Tseng. Even if he didn’t know we were here. I don’t have the ability to rationalize it as a reasonable excuse.

My eyes have adjusted by now. I catch that smirk, I see the joy.

“Almost ready for work then?” Tseng asks as though I have not said anything.

Reno jumps into the conversation as he jumps off of the chair. “Leader,” he leans in to whisper and I can’t hear him. I want too but I’m too irritated.

Whatever Reno said causes Tseng to nod slightly before turning to his desk and going to work without another word.

From his desk Tseng speaks again, “Snow, go take a shower and get ready for work. Then get something to eat.”

The mention of food flips my stomach. “Not hungry.”

I stand, but I’m not sure I know how to walk. It’s like all the common sense and knowledge I have is gone. Like I’m a child, lost and confused in some forest.

More like corporate hell. Something in me reasons. I take a deep breath; I need to get hold of my temper. But I’m not sure I really want too. 

They’ve been carrying on a conversation without me.

“Snow?”

“I’m fine.” I answer.

“You sure?”

Their concern seems misplaced in proportion to how I am feeling.

“Yea..” My response is slower than I’d have liked, but I know they’ll chalk it up to me being groggy.

“Take your time on getting ready.” Tseng instructs, “I’m not sending you back to the field until I know you’re ready.”

“Thanks.”

I leave the room; I’m still in that damn hospital gown. I look at the floor plate, the numbers are bright red and for some reason, I don’t recognize them. And I have no idea how to get to the showers. My brain has officially crapped out on me.

“Where you headed?”

I’m relieved to hear Rude’s voice.

I sigh, almost on the brink of tears I should forget something I should know so easily. “An emotional breakdown,” I cough, “But preferably the showers.”


	7. I Answer Questions - Never, Maybe

Rude shows me as far as the locker room doorway. I look in as though I have never been there in my life. I nod and sigh.

“Thanks.”

He returns a nod and leaves. And I half wonder what I’m supposed to do for clothes. Any other day this would be easy and I don’t know when all the little things became gargantuan but I knew I’d be dead in a few hours if I didn’t start figuring things out.

It’s a curious thing to come face to face with your locker and stare at is as though you’re brand fucking new. I should know this combination. I know this is my locker. I know my stuff is in it. I just don’t know how to get to it.

My hand rests on the lock. My eyes see it turning but my hands don’t follow the motion. Three numbers and it clicks open, but I don’t see what they are as my hands follow the movement to perfection. I hear the click, and I feel relieved I haven’t forgotten _everything_. But it still annoys me to think that my mind needs a kick start.

I don’t know who started the tradition, but I’m glad I had taken part. A spare uniform hung. There were extra clothes, my PHS, my bangle – everything. Someone had been in my locker recently because I was pretty certain I had my PHS when we were nearly blown to little pieces.

“It was probably Mikari.” I voice to my reflection. The showers are just to my left and I waste no time in grabbing what I need. Part of it comes with me into the shower, my left hand reaches over the knobs.

The water is cold at first but quickly warms up. It’s almost refreshing. All I can do is think, I may hate long showers, but I need the energy. I need the relaxation. But I don’t want to close my eyes.

My mind plays all the things that could have gone wrong that day. I could have killed us both, and I’m sure Rude wouldn’t have been happy about that. Alexander, I half whine, when did I become so concerned with the past? When did I worry about what could have happened?

It happened exactly as it should have.

As I readjust I get slightly angrier. Reeve Tuesti tried to kill _me_. I hadn’t thought of it until just now. Not only did he try to kill me, he tried to kill Rude, and he blamed me for it!

Instances and voices came rushing back with the warm water. Ideas and escapes – crawling through a compartment, setting off emergency sprinklers, a truck. I don’t know how many days it’s been and I dare not ask. I don’t think I want to know what’s going on outside. Not yet.

But when I do – Reeve will be in a lot of trouble.

I try not to take it personally, but I am unaware there is another way to take this. If all is fair in love and war then Reeve will regret this game. I’ll make sure of it even if it’s the last thing I do.

Why?

…Why not?

I could make a million and one excuses as to why. But none of them would make sense to me. I don’t even think I care. I just need something to do until Shinra is restored and I’d rather not go to the WRO and pretend they are doing entirely different work.

In all honesty, I am so far behind the situation. I don’t want to know what’s going on, but my thoughts trace back to the explosion. Kill or be killed, I’d imagine.

He hadn’t succeeded yet. I assure myself he never will.

I don’t want to dwell on the incident. But it’s justifying all the thoughts running through my mind. I can’t help but imagine how much easier it would be to march into the WRO and shoot everyone. How much easier, how much quicker this would all be over, if we just blew it all up.

But that’s my anger talking.

Because I know better.

It’s not that easy.

And it’s war.

So it’s not really fair either.

There is no winner.

And I can’t figure out why I’m playing for keeps.

The answer comes swiftly.

 _Because I’m the Princess_.

And it may have meant I needed saving. But I always felt it more said I get what I want. That there is no arguing with me, and in the end, my word is law. If Reeve wants to play in my world, he’ll have to learn the rules.

There’s nothing funny about it, but I still laugh. Because I simply have nothing better to do but muse over every possible outcome. I know there is no winner, but I am at least dead set on making Reeve see the error of his ways.

Or maybe killing him, I can’t quite tell if I am being sadistic or merciful yet.

M shower is uneventful. I’m clean but the fury still runs rampantly through my system. I can’t take tranquilizers. I’m allergic, but I just tell people that I don’t like the effects. I don’t like to be ‘down’. They leave it at that. But really, taking one would most likely kill me.

I’m irritable, I’m tense, I’m confrontational, I’m Fury. There’s no better way to describe it. I feel almost invincible.

At least until I realize Rude is standing there.

Have I mentioned I hate fury? I hate not having control? I hate being over sensitive that I can only feel certain things.

I’m not embarrassed, but I’m not sure he isn’t. Who am I kidding, of course he isn’t! He’s Rude. He can’t be. He’s unbreakable.

“Problem?” I inquire.

“Why did you do it?”

I’m not quite sure what he’s talking about. But I can assume the thing that has been on my mind is on his as well.

“Because I don’t want to die yet. And you were there for the ride?” I don’t have a better answer than that.

“You could have killed yourself trying to save me.”

That’s true, I could have.

“But I didn’t.” I know a smile would be inappropriate.

He doesn’t have a response.

“Because, dammit!” I stomp my foot and he looks up at me. I see his eyebrow rise just barely over his sunglasses, “I am the Princess! And my word is LAW in this kingdom!” _I always get what I want. Always._

And he thinks I’m the princess because I don’t listen to anyone. Because I always need saving, but he knows my words hold a sense of truth as well.

I am more shocked than I should be when he chuckles. I wasn’t expecting his response.

“Fine,” he stands up and prepares to leave. “You need to hurry up then, _Princess_ ; because we’ve got a meeting in ten.”

And I can’t help but argue and whine to the only person who would put up with me right now. But it’s only because I saved his life. It won’t last for long.

“I don’t want too.” _And Tseng told me to take my time._

I’m sure he wants to tell me it’s alright. I’m sure he’d like to agree with me and tell me to rest. But he can’t.

He looks at his watch.

“You’re wasting time, Princess.” _Things change, it’s important._

And I don’t know when I could start communicating without saying a word. I nod slowly. I’ll go, but I won’t enjoy it. I’m still tired, much more than I should be. I wonder if that will affect my work.


	8. I'm Not Kind if You Betray Me

I have been called many things and since I can remember I have taken each name and circumstance to heart. I do not know any other way to deal with the world or its people. I do not know another way to deal with the energies that surround every waking creature. I simply live one life, as task if you will, under one name. I move on. I survive.

There should be something terrifying about this. I find it increasingly difficult to care. Security is not a problem; I enter as a few people are leaving. They hardly notice me. Is it because I do not want to be seen? Or because they want what we want?

I have no answer attached to my thoughts. I only have a mission. A request if one might call it that.

I hear every sound, I feel every movement. It’s almost like I am dreaming and I know this is real because my eyes are accustomed to red. It is both anger and blood, but it boils regardless of a desire to stop it.

I’ve never believed in things like coincidence, everything happened for a reason. I had been a dumb child to believe it. And now it has grown into every fiber of my being.

There is no clean way to do this. I cannot decide if I want this to have a message with it, or if it should just be done. I don’t even need to meet him face to face. _Technically_ , this could all be finished from here. I go anyways, the look, his pained look will give me some pleasure.

It will be comforting to know that I have won.

I turn slowly in the chair.

His chair.

“Mr. Director, forget something?”

And I can’t help but smile as the color in his face sinks clear to his boots. His lips barely spit out my name, and I know he’s really looking for an exit.

“Princess.” He sees his keys sitting on the desk next to my open PHS.

There’s a thick veil of uncertainty peering back at me through dark eyes. I wonder what Reeve is thinking, his mind races circles around him. Fight or Flight.

If he thinks he can run, he’s sadly mistaken.

And if he thinks he can take me, then that puts us right where we need to be.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” I smile. But I know it just sends shivers up his spine. I can’t say I care because it has the effect I desire. “I assume you’re still pretty shocked to know I’m alive.”

It’s odd to see a full grown man stumble about himself.

“Oh please, have a seat.” My hand extends to a chair he should be offering me.

Reeve is hesitant but decides against angering me. As he sits his arms cross, “What can I do for you?”

He has misunderstood the reason I am here.

“No, no. Mr. Director.” I shake my head, I correct him. “I’m here to help _you_.”

I suppose even a fool could see the truth in my words. Reeve tenses up.

“I think I can manage without you,” he says. It insults me and this would be the part where I cried if his words meant a thing. He forces a chuckle as though it will help him.

I shrug, “Either way, I’m just tying up some loose ends.”

The timer on my PHS goes off. Reeve jolts up.

There’s an explosion from the parking lot. Luckily he was not in his car. But his employees don’t know that.

Panicked screams rush passed the office. Reeve is a creature of habit he goes home at the same time every night. We all know it.

“Mr. Director!!”

The shouts are numerous as they head to the explosion. Troops rush passed the mock office; after all, Reeve blew up his office weeks ago. They are all set on saving him. Maybe, just maybe, they aren’t too late. Maybe he wasn’t in the car. Maybe he’s safe.

And they’re right. But it won’t do them any good. It won’t do him any good.

“I’m glad we’re right on schedule.” I stand from the chair and Reeve looks at me completely bewildered.

I don’t make the same mistakes twice. Reeve turns taking the minute I’ve gone to my thoughts. I feel the barrel of the gun that was in his jacket. If he expects me to flinch, he’s a bigger idiot than I had thought.

My head tilts in curiosity. “Unless you’re going to shoot yourself I don’t think that’s going to help.” My eyes roll. I expect some sort of self-righteous babble. I pull my gloves down as tightly as they will fit onto my small hands. The leather creaks and I know he won’t pull the trigger.

He doesn’t have the chance. I’ve got his gun before he can figure out that I’ve hasted myself.

“You shouldn’t play with dangerous weapons.” I scold lightly, “Or people, I’d wager.”

“I’m not alone, you know.”

But he is. Because everyone else is dealing with the parking lot explosion. No one will come back for him, not yet. Because no one had seen him.

I pull the clip from the gun and toss it aside carelessly. I fought with myself on how to do this. I could have spared him had he not been so arrogant. Had he not pulled a gun on me. But if Reeve wants to play in my world, he needs to keep the rules in mind.

I’m not sorry. I don’t think I ever will be. When he made this personal he should have known there was only one outcome.

“We’re just trying to save the world. You want to save the planet too.”

Later than expected but there nonetheless.

“You more than anyone can sympathize with our goals. With going against Shinra. What have they given you, Snow?”

“Everything.” A job, training, meaning, family. This is not the answer he had been expecting.

I, too, am a creature of habit. Gunshots would be too loud.

“They can take it just as easily.” He looks at me as though I will be on the end of a scene like this one day.

“No, Shinra doesn’t do that.” I chide, “Turks do.”

He tries not to reach to his heart in anguish. He should know me better than that. I do not come in with a visible weapon, but it doesn’t mean I have nothing.

I don’t start at his heart, I start with the air he breaths. It freezes slowly the ice spreading to his lungs. It doesn’t kill him, but it’s uncomfortable. When I have a clear idea it is in his system it moves through his blood to his heart and it pumps just enough to keep it warm. Just enough to keep him alive for a moment more.  
He collapses from lack of air. I should finish the job. I think that freezing is a horrible way to die. But his skin becomes a nice blue and purple combination. His face distorted in pain – frozen in testament.

I wouldn’t wish this on just anyone. It’s simple, just like I like it. There’s no mess, there’s no breath. He has no energy, no heart beat. I take a deep breath the cool air that burned his lungs soothes mine. I find I’ve developed a habit when dealing with terrorists.

If they hurry they’ll find him. But it won’t do any good if just anyone finds him. I’m expecting this will be very troublesome for the WRO. I’m expecting assassins at my door; I’m expecting some form of retribution.

I expect the next person to enter the game will play just a bit better than Reeve had.

It looks oddly beautiful. I am unsure if it is because this is done or because in the end I turned out to be merciful. All I know is that serenity has finally set in. Perhaps it is not really him being gone as much as my eyes see a whole new world.

They scream, they shriek, the disarray is somehow tragic and comforting to me. I do not stop to help them in the parking lot. I do not want to be seen.

Nothing is the same.

It’s brighter, more vibrant.

_They say a butterfly can start a tornado halfway around the world, Simply with a flap of its wing_

And at the same time darker and more violent.


	9. I Don't Feel So Bad

There’s nothing to do but accept this for what it is. I smile as the news comes on – Reeve Tuesti standing there. Or rather a puppet who wishes he was a real boy. And _we_ have that advantage in way of knowledge. It would take a single gunshot to expose everything. Anything half malicious would expose the doll.

I can’t tell if I want to do it or not. I have to applaud Yuuta’s efforts. I can’t say I didn’t expect this. I did, just not so soon. Where Reeve was too late, Yuuta made up for. I am amused.

I think one well placed rumor would bring the entire building down. The rumors are kept low right now, it’s still too soon. But I do so love reasonable doubt. I’d wager that Yuuta has a thing or two more up his sleeve. I’d bet that he’s done a lot of clean up and he’s willing to kill to keep this on the down low.

Reeve had friends too. I wonder if they know. I do not believe that the suit would fool them for too long. In which case, I’m sure “The Reeve” will be sending them soon enough. I hear they have an ex-Turk in the midst. I might have to be careful of him if he’s half the Turk any one of my boys is.

I hear Cloud Strife is among them as well. I wonder how I’d deal with the boy; I wonder if I could. He’d look so unmistakably like one of us. His mako eyes would give him away. I can’t imagine why people don’t shun him; send him away, or the like. A thought passes my mind – Reeve. No, not Reeve. Maybe Zack, if not for Zack, the boy’d be dead by now.

I sigh. Save for Reeve it’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone trying to kill me. I wonder if Cloud will be emotional. I wonder if their ex-Turk will be as fun to play with as Reeve was.

..Reeve, he changed sides in the meteor war. He’s built enough bonds with people to make him seem like a good man. But he’s still just a dirty double-agent. He wasn’t very good at it either, but the only ones who cared had no rank. So it didn’t matter. He had it coming for some time now.

I heard some people thought of him and his group as heroes. Heroes. I laugh out loud at the thought. Spare me, I know what was done.

I did it.

And I don’t feel badly.

How can I?

Reeve wasn’t any different than us. Better masked, perhaps, but nothing more.

I sit on the desk watching the news, giggles escaping my lungs with every second.

“You didn’t clean up very well.” Tseng notices.

“I tied the loose ends up. But I left them where they were.” I don’t look over. “It amuses me when some poor fool tries to put them all together into something larger.”

“It will be troublesome.”

“They are too short to hold.”

He clicks the news off. Tseng knows where his Turks are at all times. He knows what we do, when we do it, and why. He hardly lets us go solo, it’s too troublesome lately. And it takes a lot to convince him otherwise. But he’s really no different from any man, you give him the sad eyes and he folds like a chair. Grumbling his response, “make it quick, and keep it clean.”

And you leave with a skip in your step.

Tseng says nothing else, perhaps he agrees with me – though I am more inclined to believe this is trust. I hear the file cabinet open then close and he taps the desk with his pen.

I look back with a smile before jumping up.

If we can survive Hojo, Sephiroth, Meteor, remnants, Deep ground, then we can sure as hell survive the WRO. We survive Shinra itself and for that, we should be feared. Maybe stopped.

But we do not know boundaries, we set them.

I do not know if I should be this calm. I notice Tseng doesn’t look any different either. It doesn’t really matter that much, I decide.

I feel better knowing I’ve freed Shinra from one more person. I feel better knowing I’ve done something to save _my world_.


	10. Don't You Care About Me?

I am surprised that Tseng has asked me to accompany him with this task. We enter through the large glass doors; I’m almost annoyed we’ll have several flights of stairs to scale to get to the office. He seems ecstatic but will not tell me why. Maybe not excited, anxious? It is hard to discern the emotions on his face, in his eyes, and he pauses for a second to flash his badge to the receptionist.

I do the same.

“We have new recruits coming in.”

I don’t respond. I can’t imagine who would be willing to join the Turks, especially at a time like this. By now we’re up four floors.

“I’ll meet you in the office,” he hands me a file, “Make it quick.”

And Tseng’s gone before I can respond. Like I’d have turned this down had he stayed? I’m used to this, I don’t think anyone’s had a moment to sit down and think much less talk more than four sentences at once.

Since I have to make this quick, I have to take the elevator. I keep my shivers to myself, my eyes focused on the file. I’m not the only one headed into the elevator. I speak before thinking, “Going up?”

“I am now.”

His response shoots my attention upwards in a fit. I can’t even respond. I don’t know how too. I expect things like this from _Reno_. And it had been such a long time since I had seen this man. I can’t tell if I’m relieved or slightly embarrassed.

“Ray, right?”

He’s awfully pleased with himself, I don’t think it’s because he remembers my name.

“Snow, actually.” I correct, but considering the circumstances it worked just as well. “But I couldn’t really care less, _Syn_.” I find myself attempting to slip into this state of indifference. I also do not believe that is his real name.

He leans against the wall of the elevator, “We should keep this professional, right?”

But with the way he looks in his uniform, everything but keeping it professional is going through my mind.

I nod; it’s all I can manage.

“Turks though,” he whistles, “That’s even better than what I had you pegged for.”

Half of me wants to know. The other half is screaming at me at the top of my lungs, because I already have a pretty good idea. And I can’t say its right, but my mouth hangs open to respond then promptly shuts.

My file snaps closed in unison. It’s the only thing I can focus on, but I know he’s always looking at me with those eyes of his. I don’t know why I’m trying to ignore him.

The elevator door opens, “This is my stop.” But it’s not mine. His hand stops the doors from closing. “You hurt my feelings when you didn’t stop by.”

“I told you, I don’t get breaks often.” _Not that it’d be hard for me to skip out for an hour or two.._

His lips curve into that smile. The one that flashes his apartment number in my mind.

“Make one.”

 _And it’s so much easier said than done_. I bet I do more work in a day than he does in a week.

Syn’s cockier than I remember, but it makes him more enchanting. It makes me want to take my break _now_. I can’t imagine how I’d explain myself to Tseng.

“We’ll see.” I answer, but I don’t believe it.

“Great, tonight?”

Alexander, this man does not give up. Though I do commend him for his attempts being so much better than mine.

I reiterate, “We’ll see.”

I wish he had on his sunglasses. I’ve never seen a man’s eyes sparkle quite like this before. I’d be a fool to leave him hanging completely.

Besides, with the way things are going, I’m feeling a little bored. I wonder how good he is at cat and mouse.

“Would you classify yourself as a cat?” I inquire.

“It depends on the mouse.” Syn answers. I’ve piqued his curiosity.

I smile but I can’t decide if he can beat me or not. I can’t decide if I need to let him win.

And I have no idea where he gets his lines, “But as far as you’re concerned, I’ll see you tonight.”

The doors shut before I can respond. It becomes clear to me; he won’t always let me have my way. I take a deep breath as I feel like I’ve been holding it since he started talking. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were the truth.


	11. So Who the Hell Are You to Say "We"

The two boys shuffle into the elevator, I’ve still got a few floors to go and I’d rather not be here at all. But the faces look familiar as they barely even look at me. My magic file tells me all. I can’t help but feel Tseng had planned it this way. They can’t be more than seventeen; the one on the left is taller but louder.

I recognize him from that WRO tour, but I never got his name. I did not expect him so soon. And I did not expect him to try and play in _my_ house. I looked forward to a co-worker, but I’m not sure he has what it takes.

The file opens, out of ten there are only two left.

Hazel eyes, unkempt brown hair, 5’10, Sixteen – Dean. He’s got a pretty clean face, almost too child like to be one of us. I already know he does not deal well with fake covers. I know his uncle is in the WRO and I know that on this alone, he’s probably a decent enough fit. But I also have the feeling he’s not going to be too keen on taking orders. Jeans and a t-shirt, I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or insulting.

He’s more like a dog than a boy. His mouth opens to speak to the boy next to him.

“What are you doing here?”

He is shorter, quieter, and perhaps shy. Black hair pulled back neatly in a way that reminds me of Tseng, 5’5, green eyes, Seventeen. Completely new – Raphael. He’s got a tattoo that spans his entire left arm, but I can’t quite make it out. It could be Bahamut; it could be a rose vine. The end is barely visible on the back of his hand, he’s sensible enough to dress a decent part. He’s more difficult to read than Dean is. He does not hold presence, and it seems to be a conscious choice. He _chooses_ not to respond. He looks like he’d fit the part more readily.

“Whatever.” Half graces Dean’s lips. He’s the type of boy whose mouth runs regardless of trouble. I seem to recall I stepped in last time. “I just can’t see why you made the cut.”

Raphael’s voice is soft, almost lyrical. It seems more he should be an artist or musician from the tones instead of trying to become an assassin. “You’re going to annoy the other passengers with your babbling.”

“There isn’t _any_.” Dean argues.

I smile, because Turks can be invisible.

Raphael’s green eyes have been plastered on the elevator doors. He blinks slowly turning to me, “I’m sorry about him, Miss.”

He’s too polite. Raphael reminds me of a spider.

I shake my head and close the file. “Don’t make it a point to apologize for people you are not associated with.”

Dean doesn’t recognize me. “Excuse me? Do you even know who you’re dealing with?” He reminds me of Reno. But his eagerness is misplaced. I wonder how we’ll deal with another.

It overshadows Raphael’s “Unfortunately I am associated with him.” He’s too vibrant to be Rude.

“It doesn’t matter to me.”

“It should.” Dean persists.

I want to respond, but I won’t have too. I smirk.

The elevator dings, two more people step in. I enjoy the dark suits – one with red hair, one with shades. I am pushed to the back as though I do not matter, it is Reno’s doing. He’s spotted me quickly, easily, and he makes no note of it.

It’s hard for Dean to try and intimidate me with Rude next to him. He all but shrinks in the elevator and Raphael gives a rare smile as he catches it. He chooses to say nothing to his associate.

Reno looks at the compartment jams six different buttons and gives a cat ate the canary grin.

“So, Rude.” He focuses on the shades, “We’re getting new recruits today.” He’s beside himself with joy. Almost dancing in place.

I already know what he’s thinking.

As per usual, Rude says nothing.

“I’m thinking.”

Rude adjusts his tie with a clearing of his throat and I try and stifle a chuckle.

“I’m thinking,” Reno repeats, “that we should test them. Because if they can’t handle us, they don’t deserve the job.” He looks at the two teens momentarily.

Rude’s response is simple. “They passed all the tests.”

 _But those don’t technically count._ I muse. You could pass the tests and fail horribly at the job execution.

“You still think they mean something?”

I can understand the need to provoke these kids. It’s not a peaceful time, and before anything else you have to be willing to fight your own. Because in Reno’s mind the Turks are the only ones who could ever be troublesome to us. I doubt they’d understand Reno’s subtle _charms_.

I’ve known him for years and some are still lost to me. I do not know if Rude catches them all, and since I can’t see his face I can only assume he agrees with Reno at this point.

Even though I do not think it’s wise to do all of this, I say nothing. I feel Reno could do whatever he wanted. Rude won’t stop him, neither will I, but, he’s not really in any danger.

Dean looks like he’s been slapped. This could be the realization that Reno and Rude are uncaring towards someone who might be their own. Or it could be anger. It’s difficult to tell from the back of his head. His hands quiver beside his body. He’s contemplating throwing a punch and speech.

“He’s only trying to provoke you.” Raphael is a quick voice of reason.

“Even if that’s the case,” Reno pipes in with a shrug, “It’s not _me_ you’d need to worry about.”

Despite himself and his odds, Dean speaks again. “Ain’t afraid you or your partner.” He growls, he too easily irritated. I can’t help but wonder if I was this bad.

Reno’s joy melts away from his face. He looks at Rude, and then at Dean. He smiles again turning to face the door. He takes a quick look in Rude’s direction before focusing completely.

Rude’s eyes flick, I know this situation well. I wonder if they think I’ll really let them do it.

It’s only a second later before Dean’s fist is drawn up to punch Reno in the back of the head. My hand grabs his wrist.

“Let it go.”

He turns to me as though he has to report to me. His mouth gapes open in a response.

I send a chill throughout his body. “Let it go.”

He winces releasing the tension in his fist. I let him go; his arm falls carelessly to his side as he tries to pretend he doesn’t care. At the next stop Rude leaves the elevator. The one after that Reno leaves. And we still have four more floors from Reno’s button mania.

My stop is their stop, but I know they haven’t realized it yet.

“Thank you.”

His voice is softer than it was before; I’m surprised it can be any softer. Raphael looks at me.

He takes a small breath, “You didn’t have too.”

He’s assuming I’ve gone out of my way.

“It’s not a problem.”

“They’re the Turks.” Dean inserts himself in, “Someone as small as you should be worried about repercussions.”

Raphael hadn’t wanted to say it so bluntly. His eyes show distinct shock as he tries to scold the other boy under his breath, “Dean.”

The elevator doors open and I step between them, “I’m not worried about it. This is your stop, right?”

They follow me out. Tseng’s door is open the three of us step in after I’ve given a light knock. I hand over the file as I’ve read everything I need to know. Tseng sets it aside and offers a seat to the two boys.

He raises and eyebrow at me. “Opinion?”

I speak honestly, no need to mask them from the boys.

“Dean’s arrogant and impulsive. Almost got into it with Reno. He deals well with strong suggestions, but otherwise has the mind frame he should act on his own. He also does not seem serious about the job.”

I look at him then pause on Raphael.

“Raphael’s calm, too polite; I’d wager he’s never even fought anyone. More serious than his counterpart, he avoids conflict if he can. Holds no dominating presence; you’d mistake him for part of the landscape if he said nothing.”

Tseng looks at them for a moment, he stands. “Do you think it will be difficult to train them?” There are a lot of reasons why the answer would be yes.

Dean and Raphael exchange glances. It is now it sinks in that my dark suit belongs to the Turks.

“Before training them,” there’s a pause, “We need to teach them to see the truth. Otherwise, they’re better off elsewhere.”


	12. You Didn't Have to Treat Me That Way

There is no logical or even close to reasonable way to get out of this. I tried four days ago when I was assigned the task. Unfortunately Dean makes this seem more like babysitting instead of a mission. I’ve stopped myself from hitting him repeatedly. But I still can’t understand how he managed to piss off every sailor on the ship. It’s a simple courier task. Help Navy Ship deliver goods to Costa Del Sol. Packages from point A to point B. Turks for peacekeeping. Turks in case of attack. It’s easy to keep two than half an army. If we’re boarded it’s our job to handle it.

Simple.

Yes.

No. Not with Dean.

He’s restless.

He wants a real job.

And I don’t know who told him being in the Turks was glamorous. But I’m going to feed them their heart.

I can keep the peace between ships, between sailors; I have no problem with anyone but Dean.

I’m tired of meeting him in sick bay. I’m sick of his excuses and when I catch the sailors surrounding him, I first give a sigh. Alexander, they want him dead. I don’t know what he’s done but he’ll play dearly for it.

I’m running before I realize it, hasted as well. I’ve jumped some barrels and before anyone else has seen me my fist connects to Dean’s jaw before the sailor’s can. He looks up at me with round, dumb eyes. The sailors share his bewilderment.

I crack my knuckles. It’s been too long since I’ve actually had to fight someone. I swear there is something wrong with this kid. He doesn’t know he shouldn’t get back up. I was unaware I would have to teach him _everything_.

He wipes the blood from his lip as he tries to fathom how I knocked him down. Dean looks pained, like I’ve betrayed him. I don’t know how many times Reno knocked my ass into the ground. I don’t know how many times he ridiculed me. I can’t even begin to fathom he was right at this point.

“Is that all it takes, boy?”

I don’t feel like I’m being condescending. I don’t feel like I bitch. But if he gets back up, I’m going to put him back down. We call it _discipline_ , and someone needs to teach him. And I won’t let it be the sailors.

He’s trying to word his thoughts carefully. I’m amazed he’s got through process at all. I pull him up by the collar.

“I asked you a question.”

The edge of his jacket freezes in my irritation. They think I can’t control it. The whispers shuffle back and forth, almost undistinguishable beneath my own thoughts – beneath his thoughts.

He breaks free because I let him, but he won’t learn that for a bit yet. Everything he does is because I choose it. And he’ll die if he never understands that.

His hands waste no time in cleaning himself off. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He spits his reply. Dean’s voice quivers, assuming we had some sense of loyalty, some bond – I almost feel sorry for him.

Even if he’s right, he’s not going to be in my protective grasp forever. And it’s not me he needs to worry about in the long run.

But I don’t like his tone. It’s not the proper way to speak to me. It reeks of insurrection. More importantly than that is the idea that he thinks he can best me. I feel it creeping up in his mind as he looks me over.

This might be classified as a private matter. I can’t remember if the Turks know civil discord. I’ve never seen it, yet I can’t believe this is a first. I can’t believe Dean is the only one stupid enough to think he can do this all on his own. I can’t believe he’s the only arrogant son of a bitch in our ranks.

There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t think there ever has been.

Dean intentionally misses when he throws his punch. He curves to the side of my cheek. It rests there; I can feel the warmth of his skin.

“If you can’t follow through with even the most basic of tasks, Dean, you’re worthless.” I grab his wrist, “I’ll give you a few words of advice; they’ll save your life.”

I pull him into my knee. His arm impacts with it as he tries to break free of my icy grasp. He stumbles and I turn to face him again. He whirls around his eyes burning a familiar red.

I offer my hand to help him. He’s wary. He should be. I’m proud he learned that quickly enough.

My advice comes with stone cold eyes, “For every action you take. You only have three seconds. Anything more will cost you that pretty face.”

And I blame Rude. Whether it’s true or not is a matter of opinion. It’s hard to take into account all the other people and the energies swirling about when I’m so focused. I only know that when Dean gets back up, when he makes up his mind, this is going to get more serious than it needs be.

The only thing that breaks this concentration is the annoying beep of a message.

**Sender: Syn**   
_It’s better to waste time with a –man-._   
**12:30 PM**

 

“Three seconds Dean. Remember, you are not the only one allowed to make choices. Some people will make them for you.”

I click the device shut and turn away. This will not be the first time; this will not be the only time. He will learn our rules or die trying.


	13. I Didn't Hear What You Were Saying

There’s something wrong, something seriously ill and distorted about the whole picture and the fact that I’m stuck in the middle of it only makes it worse. He said, he punched, this happened and it’s his fault, but as the voices carry to and fro I cannot imagine how the Captain even manages to hear a thing. It’s too noisy for my liking.

Something, something. Snow do something! Something, something. Shut up kid! We’re not talking to the rookie! Something, something. He’s no rookie. Something, something.

The words the feelings, it all buzzes around me. I stand there with my arms crossed a look of disinterest plastered in my eyes as I give a sigh. I don’t even know why I’m here. Dean’s looking in my direction, he wonders if we have to do something about this.

Something, something. Blah, blah, blah. I don’t know who turned off my ability to hear coherently. I don’t know why I decided this conversation meant less than any other on board. But that was how it was going to be and therefore, I heard very little as the crew was gathered at lunch time.

It’s meaningless but not just from my perspective. Everyone is talking about what they are going to do once we make port. Or rather, I assume that’s what they are talking about. I couldn’t care less as I pick at my food. I cannot stand sailing. I sigh again as I take a drink.

“You look bored out of your mind.”

I nod slowly. Dean’s surprised the man got a response at all. I look at Dean’s Vanilla pudding and try to decide how I’m going to justify stealing it, especially since he’s been such a good boy lately. I could swap it for my chocolate, but I do not want the fit that will follow.

“You must be the pup everyone’s talking about.” Syn smiles sitting across from him, next to me – of course. I should have seen that coming. “You’re a bit bigger than I gave you credit for. Interesting..”

Why am I interested in this conversation?

Because it’s Syn.

“What’s your point?” Dean inquires. He’s trying to be polite, but for my sake. Or maybe for his pride’s sake. He doesn’t want to get knocked down again.

“No point,” Syn answers, “Just making conversation.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

He looks over at me, “That’s fine; I’m here for her anyways.”

I dully respond without looking up, “Favorites much?”

He says nothing as he turns to his lunch and back to Dean. “I can’t see why you’d give her trouble.”

Syn’s good at getting what he wants from people. He knows the exact words to say to keep your interest regardless of who you are. It’s an amazing scene to watch when his attention is not focused on me.

“I don’t.”

“Well, you give my crew trouble which gives her trouble.” I cannot tell if Syn is stating obvious facts to start a lecture or enlightening the boy on truths he should have picked up and hadn’t. “It’s really a matter of understanding. Of seeing beyond a normal view.”

“I don’t need a lecture.” Dean quips.

His chuckle seems oddly familiar, like it’s something I should be so very familiar with. And it makes me half look over.

“I could have hit you, you know.” Syn continues his chuckles stop almost as quickly as they had come. His face becoming soft instead of joking. “Luckily for you, I’m not a violent man.”

As though I am? My eyes roll at his words and I almost want to reach over and slap him.

He does not ignore my glance, but he will deal with me later. The tone in his aura reassures me of this.

“My point, Dean, is that you need to work on your people skills. You need to see beyond yourself.”

“I do.”

I choke on my drink, laugh or drink, not both.

Syn contents himself to take a few bites of his food and then change his crappy vanilla pudding for my chocolate as though we have some form of agreement. Like it’s some sort of peace offering for being in my business. Dean watches as I do nothing but look at the pudding dabbing my pinky in it to take a taste then doing the same to the chocolate.

I prefer the vanilla.

“I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to be in the Turks.” Syn offers, “But, if you’d pay attention to your surroundings; I’d imagine you’d get beat up less. Regardless of the job you’re in, your survival is important. If you want to live tomorrow, your choices today need to reflect that.”

“Is that why you try and keep everyone,” Though Dean is looking directly at me, “happy?”

Syn looks at me too, “No, _that’s_ personal.” He picks up his pudding and tries to decide if he wants to throw, dump, or eat it before continuing. “You do what you need too; anyone can be good at their job. It takes extra to do the job more than once.”

“You really think so?” Dean’s eyebrow is raised in curiosity as though he’s talking to some great Sage.

“I’d be dead otherwise.” Syn echoes words Turks have known since our job has begun, “Only a fool would sacrifice themselves for a job.”

“I’m no fool.” Dean reassures.

I pipe into the conversation, as though I’m one to talk; “Could have fooled me.” But whether the lecture or advice was for me or Dean is somewhat unclear. It is more Syn musing aloud to whoever would listen.

But since I’ve never actually died, I feel pretty confident that I can talk. I can say such arrogant things. Because the things I’ve done that may seem sacrificial were not for my job, they were not for me.

In a few hours we’ll be off of this ship and I’ll be free to relax in the sun and sands of Costa del Sol. I’ll be Free until the crew is to return to work. I’ll be free until Tseng amends my orders or gives me new ones.


	14. Six Foot Tall, Came without a Warning

It should be more difficult to separate myself from Dean as we step off of the ship. What should be “Stick close, we’re still on duty.” Is “Try not to get into too much trouble?” He barely waves me off happy to be free of the chains that bind him. I roll my eyes as he practically skips off.

“Kids these days.” rolls off my tongue and bites out at my lips as sailors pass me, as Dean’s head disappears over the steps. I should go after him, but I am so sick of his face, his voice, his mannerisms that I’m content to know he’s going to be causing someone else trouble for ten minutes. It might be more than ten minutes, I can’t be sure. But he’s someone else’s problem. The kid deserves a break otherwise I’m going to shoot him in the foot. And as much as I’d enjoy that I do not want to listen to him anymore than he wants to be around me.

It feels nice to breath in the warm air. It feels nice to be back on familiar ground. I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the sun; it seems so much brighter in Costa del Sol. I half wonder what I’m doing here. It’s been so long since I’ve had something that might be classified as a vacation that the word is foreign to me. That the idea does not cross my mind in anything more than a sigh.

I feel out of place among the men and their white uniforms, their collected laughs and haughty expressions. I feel like I’ve stumbled into another universe under their meaningless prattle and pick up lines on anything with tanned legs and bouncy breasts. It’s all so unattractive to see men drooling about themselves at the slightest movements of one of these bubble headed blondes. And I bet Dean is off somewhere doing the very same thing, using his position as a Turk to get a little something extra out of his visit.

A lot of things occur to me, but mostly, I just want to be out of this suit and in something more comfortable, something relaxing, something less constricting. I want to get the stench of salt water out of my hair; I want to stop smelling like I’ve been on a warship.

For once in my life I want to be a delicate flower shielded from the harshness of the cruel sun. And I don’t know where the idea comes from or even why I’m having it now.

 _A shower would be nice_ , I muse. At least the walk to the inn will be quiet. Even if I only get ten minutes of peace, it will be nothing short of heaven. I’m already headed there before I realize it. I’ve pulled off my jacket and pulled off my tie. It lessens the heat, but still makes me wish I had something more than an exact replica of it to change into.

He jogs to catch up to me. Shouting back at the others a phrase along the lines of, “I’ve already got plans.” And the sound of his shoes to the stone pathway as he seems like he has to quicken his pace amuses me. Because I’m not moving any faster than I was a minute ago, and I’m not going to run away in the blink of an eye.

“What do you want, Syn?”

I half look over as he tries to keep in pace with me. I expect his answer to be ‘Dinner’ or something along those lines. Something unwittingly cute and charming. An idea or plan that is so romantic I’d look at him in such a way as to stop his heart cold. A phrase or remark that would leave me standing there completely dumbfounded as he has so many times before.

But his reply is the same teasing tone it always is. It’s always got strings attached. It always says more than he really should. Even though he hasn’t said anything of importance at all.

“Same as you.”

I shouldn’t agree to this. I shouldn’t say a thing.

It escapes anyways. “A shower.”

The smile that cracks at his lips is too priceless to ignore. It’s too forward for me to say something like that. We’d have expected it from him. But as it came in my voice he could only smirk in a half awe. Whether I understand this game or not is out of the question, it’s so far out of the park that I keep walking and his strides are perfectly in tune to mine.

Syn opens the door to the inn. When the receptionist looks at us he still does not have his voice back. My index finger does all the talking. I smile. She processes everything without a word and hands me the key. I half look over as though he’s supposed to understand my train of thought.

I’m thankful he can read my mind as well as I think he can. I’m half conscious as to how it all plays out from the desk to the door. But I do I hear the door close behind him with a light click.


	15. Wake Up Call

I do not pretend to understand anything that has happened. But as the sound of the shower continues after I’ve left I can’t help but smile. I want to reach in and turn the hot water cold if only to pull him out. I barely hear the PHS in the other room.

I leave without saying anything to him. I listen for the ringing longer than I should have too. The number is unknown. I’m used to being perfectly normal.  
 _”Tseng’s dead.”_

It takes longer than I’d like to admit that the words make sense. It takes me too long to realize its Hikou. I want to say ‘Are you sure’, ‘How’, ‘Why’. But it rolls off my tongue as anything but. I can’t respond, because Tseng can’t be dead. I want to pretend like she’s kidding, but there’d be no reason to have such a joke.

_"We need you and your subordinate back tomorrow for the service; all current missions are being halted."_

I’m happy to be getting orders. It gives me a focus. But the mention of a service does not sit well in my mind. It takes everything I have not to cry. It takes a stronger person than I am. The word pounds in my mind and the words make me breath heavily.

“I understand.” And as much as I’d love to sound detached, I know my voice quivers.

Alexander, at least someone knows what to do.

I hear the pause on the other end of the line. It tightens my chest. It makes my breathing harder. It feels oddly similar to hands wrapping around my lungs and squeezing, but I cannot tell if they are hers or my own.

I never want to hear this tone again. I never want to hear this solemn cry. Not from Hikou. _"He'll need to be replaced immediately."_

I already know. I want to decline, to get away as fast as humanly possible. We don’t’ leave, we don’t retire. If I want out of this, then I’d have too….just like.

I bite my lip. This sounds so morbid as it escapes. Everything I ever wanted, but not at a cost I’m willing to pay. I want to respond in more than one word, in a slew of well placed sentences. But even my tongue has failed me.

I want him back.

“He already has been.” Is the best I can manage.

There’s nothing more to say, I barely hear the sound of something falling. I pray that she’s alright too. There are many questions that begin to spiral in my mind. I’ll need answer but now is not the time.

I’m out of time.

I am unaware of what is happening with her. But my own tears are becoming a nuisance I do not want to deal with. That I do not want to face.

I don’t have someone to blame. I don’t want to know the truth. For now, I’ll live in s small ignorance. If Hikou has halted missions, I need to come up with a reason why. I need immediate transport.

“I’ll be there by the end of the day.”

There is no response; I know this is for the better. _Call Ended_ flashes on the screen. The time is less than five minutes, a flurry of numbers I do not quite recognize.

My breathing comes out in steps, it’s labored, unnatural. I try to hold back my tears; I try to stop these feelings. I can’t.

It wouldn’t be proper.

I can’t cry. I want to know how to scream, more than ever. I want to take in as much air as I can and release it in one thunderous blow that would make sense of all of this. I’m sobbing, it’s pathetic.

I should take comfort in him and I can’t. I dress as quickly as I can. It’s harder than I ever knew it to be. Simple functions are overrun by my thoughts. And I fumble as I try and pick my PHS back up.

“I’m sorry.”

Looking at me must be a sad sight. All he does is shake his head and take me in his arms.

“I can’t stay. I.” I choke out in sobs, “I have to report in.” But I can’t tell him why. It will be known soon enough, but I still have to tell the others.

Hikou shouldn’t have had to tell me. The least I can do is spare her this. If I’m doing something, maybe it won’t be so bad.

Maybe I won’t feel like I’ve betrayed the only man who saw potential in me. I’d been training to have his job. I _bragged about it_ , I boasted, I was arrogant. I told Tseng all of it; I said I’d have his job.

 _Not like this_.

A deep breath fills my lung. I need to readjust. Until I have answers, I won’t rest. I can’t. Not everything has sunk in yet, there are things that still haven’t touched this new abyss.

This is my wake up call.

I break from Syn, turning back at the door. “I’ve got to find Dean. All withstanding missions are halted. All troops should report to Headquarters immediately.”

A switch has flipped in my mind and it will be the only way I can handle this. I shut the door behind me; I don’t want to hear his response. Dean is at the bottom of the staircase. He looks confused, irritated.

He knew I was coming.

“We’re headed back to Edge.”

“But I have plans.”

“Not anymore.”

There is no argument and I’m not surprised. But I’m not content either. This is reminiscent of my nightmares; only, I’m not going to wake up from it.


	16. I Live on Raw Emotion

Everything passes in blurs and barely visible color. My world has become black and white. We take a helicopter from Costa del Sol to Junon. I do all the talking but the words are lost to me. We board another helicopter. Dean sits next to me against his wishes.

Seeing as I’ve shoved him into the seat I expect whining, whimpering or something of the like. I expect provocation. Not a peep. He says nothing for the entire trip. From Junon to Edge is marked by a flurry of my thoughts.

Memories of Tseng.

Phrases.

Ideas.

Smiles.

_“I work in Public Safety.” Tseng answers, the nurse shifts uncomfortably, I notice but Tseng doesn’t seem troubled by it. “It’s my job to keep people safe, I’m a Turks.”_

It was the first time I had ever heard the word “Turks”. I head it from him. I believed every word he had said, he was my hero. It wouldn’t be until I understood the job better what that might really mean to him.

_“It might be similar to Limit Break.” Tseng offered, “Regardless, we have to keep her alive; otherwise…”_

Otherwise what? I never got to ask. I never had the courage. I had always believed it was something to keep me hooked, to keep me working my hardest. I never asked, because I didn’t want to be deemed unimportant. I didn’t want to know that it was all a game, some horrible ruse.

_“I forbid you to leave.”_

_I knew he’d have his way. No one really left and if we did, we died._

I never took him as seriously as I should have. I assumed he’d always be around to give me a proper scolding. He’s Tseng.

I return to Shinra once again. Not quite ready to face the new challenges that arise. I do not fathom how he had done this job. I do not understand, I can only pray I pick it up quickly. Catch the ball, keep the game going.

But it doesn’t feel peaceful. Anxiety and depression loom in the air. This is not the home I wanted to return too. This is my world scarred by reality. Torn and scattered by the truth no one thought we’d ever have to face.

I’m torn by the idea of telling them all together, I might handle it alright if I broke down in front of one of them. But I am not sure how I will manage for them all to see me like this. I do not know how to face them yet.

They are not there awaiting my return. Reno and Rude to not shoot me impatient glances as I step off of the chopper with the rookie.

**Sender: Snow**   
_All Turks Report immediately to Leader’s Office._   
**18:18**

It is the best warning I can give. I feel the collected energy move from different parts of the building. I do not believe they are so foolish as to not know something. If there is anyone with information in the building it will be the Turks.

Dean follows in my shadow, from the helicopter pad to the elevator. The top floor to the Turks floor. Everything is shades of gray. There is no sound to accompany my trek through the hallway. It is empty.

The walls are thick – with blood, breath, time. They are filled, screaming hopelessly as I open the doorway. Five suits look in my direction. Five solemn faces, ten impatient eyes staring me down for an answer. Dean joins them in the room, he stands next to Raphael.

They are paired off now. I feel so alone. The message locks in my throat and I take my place next to Tseng’s desk. My eyes glance over every paper, every symbol, over everything. And it’s a hard pill to swallow to know its now mine.

It’s not supposed to happen like this. I did not have a plan for how it should have happened. But by now I am running on pure emotion. I have to get this done. My body lacks the strength and ability to go this long, but my heart cries to be heard.

There’s nothing wrong with the setting. We are gathered as we should be. I have the message, their undivided attention but the way their eyes ask make me want to withdraw. I want to hide away. I pause on each one trying to word this properly, as though there are magic words to make this all right.

I should start with a salutation.

“I’m sure you’re all aware that something is amiss.”

And I can’t.

“It has come to my attention.” I breathe slowly, no one will rush me. “It has,” I bite my lip unsure of a delicate way to lace this. I don’t want to say it outright, I think we’re delicate. I think this hurricane will kill us. But I feel the thoughts growing. They rise quickly.

 _All of us are present_.

“I am unaware of all the details. However, I have been informed of a great tragedy.” It gets harder with every word. “Tseng is no longer among us. He is…” I don’t want to say dead. I don’t want to say gone, “Free.”

I do not realize that from when I started speaking to this moment that the tears have been sliding down my cheeks. They understand my words; they know what I mean to say.

Elena’s tears over power my own. She looks like the widow grieving for true love. Mikari, while usually emotionless, looks at me in disbelief. Rude shrinks out of himself, at least it looks like all color leaves his face leaving his body standing there to mull over my words.

Reno’s eyes fall onto the desk. If I am giving the message he knows how has assumed command. But that’s not what he cares about. He cares about details I don’t have.

I do not expect Dean and Raphael to take this as hard as we do. There is nothing but silence for several moments.

“So what do we do now?” Dean asks.

All eyes fall on him. Some are angered he should break the only moment we’ll have to properly grieve. Others are amazed at how stupid he sounds. Reno specifically is livid.

But the only way we can do this is to keep moving forward.

I look at him, “I will be training new recruits. Elena and Mikari will now be partners, you will watch after Mr. President.” My eyes fall on Reno and Rude. “Nothing will change with the two of you for the time being. You are on standby.”

The room feels heavier than before. Like the changes are not worth it. But they are and we all know it. “The service is tomorrow. Until then, get some rest.”

Mikari helps Elena out, the blonde crying so hard she can barely see straight. When our depression wears out someone is going to have hell to pay. Reno and Rude leave next, Reno slamming the door as hard as possible. The wall shakes in response and I can’t say his anger is misplaced.

I sigh heavily. I will have Dean and Raphael to worry about and it leaves no more time to grieve for a lost hero. My hero.


	17. I Hear a Sound and Hit the Ground

I recognize about half of the faces in the crowd. The people I wish to be close to at this moment are scattered, strategically placed in hopes of a blood bath. In hopes that today will rain crimson.

I do not have time to notice the subtle beauty this is supposed to be. I’m always out of time lately and I wonder what started that. Was it the WRO busting in my door? Was it when Hades was summoned? Everything beats as a long passed memory. Memories I do not care for.

Everything is flawless as it should be. Tseng would be proud or see such mechanical work, such precision. Alexander, if that doesn’t make me cry, then nothing will. My hand rises up to my cheek to check, just in case. I should be allowed to cry. I should be allowed to grieve – we all should. And when we do not have that chance, I feel we are backed into a corner with no outlet for our pain or rage.

We will be troublesome.

 _"We currently have no leads on the motives or whereabouts of those responsible, only certain that this is the act of a new anti-Shinra terrorist organization. I personally urge all citizens to deliver whatever information they have for the good of the public safety, previous organizations having made many civilian casualties out of company disputes."_ I barely hear the pause, _"Henceforth, the Peacekeeping Division will be headed by operative Snow Rayjah."_

It’s happened before I can even close to prepare. Before I can imagine how close to hell this is going to be like. They’ll not spare me, and I will remember how unkind they were. I will remember, because its all we have left.

The funeral ceremony has become a background spectacle; these wolves want to know details. I didn’t have them for Reno; I don’t have them for them.

I don’t hear the question; my ears are ringing too loudly.

“He was not just our leader; he was a dear friend, a brother if you will.” My voice responds more softly than I intend. “We will do everything in our power to continue our job.”

_”Killing people?”_

The question is uncalled for. I mark his face. “Peace keeping,” I’m not going to miss a beat if they don’t. “It is our desire and duties to keep the peace many have worked so hard to obtain.”

I’m working harder at it than I want. But they do not ask foe whose peace. They do not ask who has worked to obtain it. I don’t see faces anymore than Rude knows how to answer all of these questions.

_”Is this linked to the WRO bombing?”_

I blink slowly. Yes and no. The question is too double-edged for my liking.

“We are still investigating.” But I know the answer is that this is linked to Reeve’s death more than me blowing up his car. I know I won’t like what I find.

People are slowly clearing out leaving the press to me. Leaving me to deal with wolves that wish me dead. And I don’t want to fight back.

I see Mikari and Elena leave with Rufus. Good, I think, just as I’ve instructed. I do not know where Hikou has gone. Reno and Rude have taken to either side of me, and I don’t realize it until I’ve caught Syn’s sad blue eyes on me.

I can’t imagine how pathetic I look. How out of place and grasping for the reality of the situation I must seem. He waves; I do not return the gesture. There are few people who look actually bothered by this spectacle. There are few who know the pain as well as I do. As I step down, the two men at my side, the pres continues to follow us out. I’ll not let them linger here anymore than need be.

“Miss Rayjah,” I turn to look at this reporter. “What do the Turks intend to do?” He hints at revenge. He looks to make me lose my temper, to exact punishment here and now.

“I believe,” I slowly respond, “I already answered this question. The Peace keeping division,” Not the Turks, “Intend to do our job.” Sometimes it just meant we had to kill a fool or two. If they are trying to make me waver, if they are trying to catch me off guard, they will not.

I did not sign up for this just to be tricked by some stupid children with cameras. I know what I am doing, far more than I like to admit.

“Now, if you’d like to have more questions answered I would prefer to do it elsewhere. We shouldn’t disturb the peace here.” And I’ve never found cemeteries or mausoleums peaceful. But my point is really that I do not want to talk about Tseng’s death _here_.

The cameras click; voices are rushed and barely make way over my own thoughts. At some point Raphael and Dean have joined me. At this point I realize if I do not get out of here then someone else will be having a funeral soon.

I give a sigh as I try and readjust my energies. I’ll need more than strength if I wish to do this job properly. I’ll need a lot more than support if I’m going to get every one of us out alive. But if Tseng managed this on a daily basis, then why can’t I?

Reno snaps me back to attention, “Leader,” it sounds so foreign. “We have other meetings to attend.”


	18. So Don't Say a Word

The job is not half as glamorous as I had imagined. My world does not come crumbling down, it expands ever so slightly. The truth of the situation is nothing has really changed. The one change that has come, I didn’t want. I still perform all of my Turk duties but now I actually have the position to order around, years ago, it would have thrilled me.

My days have become tests and training, slowly draining out what’s left of my sanity. Whenever one of my Turks comes by there is a riddle or some puzzle to solve and whoever figures it out gets the next mission.

The building is still tense; most have returned to their stations. There’s one navy crew still in the building awaiting orders. Rufus has not told me why. Their captain will not tell me why. But it has something to do with Tseng and between my tasks of keeping everyone on missions and training our recruits, I’m too look through Tseng’s files and see just what he was doing.

But I know Tseng.

He was most likely just covering all of his bases.

Dean enters the room with Raphael in toe, the taller looking irritated as he often does. The shorter exasperated from having been with the other all day. But they haven’t been just with each other, I smile, I sent them to Rude.

He steps in between them taking a seat to my barely out stretched hand. Rude will not waste words so I have to ask a specific question, just one, to get all of the answers I need. But not a one of us have learned to be delicate and Dean and Raphael wait on bated breath to hear what Rude and I have to discuss.

I won’t send them away just so they can learn.

Just so they can hear what they are messing up.

Because hearing it first hand is the best way.

“They’re alive.” Statement, I’m safe. Rude has this mind frame about questions; he’ll only allow me one. I do not if he did this with Tseng but I find a certain amount of joy in the game.

Ask me one question and I’ll give all your answers. And only Rude could pull it off.

“Barely.” Rude reassures.

But I have this thing about finding the right question; I have this thing about choosing my words so carefully that I can say many things and get many irritated responses. It works out for the both of us, really.

“You always pull through Rude.”

He quips, “Dean asks for death.”

“Of course he does.” I’ve known this for awhile now. “Raphael’s useless too.” I offer.

“Not so much as Dean. Training him in materia would be more beneficial.” Rude responds with a light sigh.

“I could leave Dean with you,” I then say, “You’d teach him properly.”

“I don’t babysit.” He stands indicating we’re almost done with this conversation, “And neither should you.”

And while I agree with him, I finally have my question. “Should we keep them?”

He simply answers, “Yes.”

Rude turns and shuts the door lightly behind him.

However, if I want Rude’s ‘faith’ in them to pay off; I am going to have to train them more. I am going to have to make the Turk savvy. And I don’t know why they haven’t picked it up yet. They’ve learned a bit of something from every one of us and they’re still not better than when they first got here.

“I want the two of you to listen and reflect on everything I am going to say,” I look at Dean, “This may be difficult for you, but I do not want to hear a word from either of you.”

His mouth closes, Raphael gives a nod.

“If you speak, you will not enjoy the outcome. Remember, I need you alive. But I will not spare a fool. I will not let a begging boy live. If you have something better to do with your life, now would be the time to take the opportunity. You are not quite Shinra yet and this is the only chance you have at Freedom.”

But the words sound odd.

“You’ve already had a taste of what it’s like, I doubt you’d be able to leave so easily and whatever it is that keeps you here – remember it was _your choice_.”

I stand from my desk and pull the handgun and PHS from my jacket. “I will not tolerate whining, renegades, or some troubled sense of justice. Our job is not revenge.” As much as I want to believe it many of us are still grieving. “And I will not hold your hand as you cross the street, nor will I guide you through every matter. If you want to survive, if you want to be the best, then you’ll have to learn to play by the rules.”

They know half of the Rules, Shinra’s rules.

“This is my world and my rules. Learn them quickly.”

But not all of mine. I have their undivided attention. “Or die trying.”

I set the gun on the desk and then my attention turns to my PHS. I set the timer for five minutes. I will give them some advantage at the beginning of every game. Today, I have given them extra time.

“My PHS is set for five minutes; you have that time to touch the handgun on the desk. Should only one of you succeed you both still pass the test.” This will test teamwork, speed, and their ability to judge their Leader and her actions.

“You are allowed to use anything in the room to meet your goal, and you are allowed to use any method. However, you cannot call for help from anyone not in this room.” My arms cross, “Your only help is your partner.”

The two boys look at each other, determined.

“You can use anything you have on your person – materia, weapons – it’s all allowed.”

But why would they need it? Raphael’s eyes ask. It’s just the simple reaching of a gun.

“Your goal is to reach the gun and take a shot.” I smile as color begins to drain from their face. Whether they shoot to kill is their choice, “And because of the stakes of the game,” I walk around my desk and sit on the edge, “You’ll have to get through me.”

My rules still apply to me: no outside help and I am allowed to use whatever is in the room or on my person. I have an advantage they do not know about. My hand reaches back to the PHS to start the timer.

“Any questions or comments before we start?”

“This is madness!” Dean chokes out, “Shoot you? Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I am kidding?” I raise my eyebrow inquisitively wondering where I had spoken a language they did not understand.

“Is there a chance of death?” Raphael inquires.

“You’re a Turk, boy; there will always be that possibility.” I say and my finger confirms the time set.

_4:59:58_

The scramble in opposite directions, but I do not move from my resting place.

_Time, Fire, Ifrit, All_

Interesting choices for Dean, though I’m not surprised by his need to be quick and the fire is a direct match for his temper. I shift to Raphael.

_Barrier, Manipulate, Morph, Restore, All, Destruct, Seal_

It seems the boys have made this too easy for me. But it saddens me that I won’t even have to use my own materia. And this is a skill that Rude believes I should teach Raphael.

Dean casts haste on himself, Raphael casts Wall on Dean. Dean ignores his partner’s help and simply charges at me. Raphael feels energy surge through him, something is wrong, someone is using his materia.

He pulls barrier off hoping it will stop the use.

“That won’t work.” I offer, the orb rolls to my feet and Dean is met with a solid wall around the desk. He punches at it trying to break through.

He’s wasting energy. But Raphael is sensible.

Too bad DeSpell won’t work.

Raphael is more adept at this than I’d have given him credit for. “You’ll have to keep her distracted,” he calls to Dean, “If we don’t her concentration will ever break and we’ll never complete the test.”

“She has to run out of magic points sometime!” Dean retorts back.

Raphael is amazed at his partner’s pig-headed attitude. He knows better.

_3:45:37_

I jump up from my desk, Dean does not feel the sensation of someone using his materia. Raphael catches my hasted status. His face pales, he knows I carry very few materia with me: Ice, Hades, Alexander, and Enemy Skill. Others are subject to change, but Ultima, Restore, Revive, and Contain are among the list.

_3: 00:01_

The door opens, one blonde head and one red head pops in – Syn and Reno.

“She’s here.” Reno says his tone is biting and suspicious.

“Thanks.” Syn answers his tone is sincere and playful.

“I’m a bit busy,” I comment picking up my PHS, “But if you can wait two or so minutes, I’ll be done.”

They think I’m distracted, Dean runs full force into the magical wall of his partner’s materia. And Reno bursts out into laughter like I’ve never seen.

Raphael tries to use Manipulate on Reno, but there is no effect. A heavy sigh escapes his lips; he does not want to concede. Dean stumbles about himself, staggering and clutching to Syn who moves slightly to the right letting the boy fall on his face at his feet.

Time is swiftly passing, but Raphael swallows his pride silencing his partner as he speaks. Dean struggles to argue, his voice lost in the abyss of Silence.

“I concede. I need more training.”

_00:59:03_


	19. What's Coming Now

Their training is almost complete. It has gone much quicker than I have given them credit for and aside from minor annoyances it is all according to schedule. Unfortunately, things have spiraled into a world I hardly recognize. People I should know feel foreign and I have met too many new people that I do not feel the safety of the shadows that I once held to dearly.

Things are changing.

And I don’t like it.

I think Tseng would be able to give an amazing pep talk.

I think I’d blow him off as an optimistic fool.  
But I’m one too.

“Leader?” Raphael’s soft voice brings me back to attention with a sigh. “Dean diffused the test bomb again.”

“Quicker?”

Raphael shakes his head, “No.”

“Did he try it himself?”

Raphael sits in the nearest chair, “Doesn’t he always?”

I have to stop and think, because I’m sure that Dean and Raphael are partners. They still don’t act like it, and I’m not sure if it’s because Raphael is overbearing or Dean’s too arrogant. I feel like a mother with children who just won’t listen and there’s no father to reaffirm my discipline.

They think I’m a pushover, that I’ll be keeled over by the end of the week in some emotional breakdown. I almost agree with the notion as I watch Dean from behind the Plexiglas. He’s dancing like a fool, Reno’s to his right and I wonder how long it will take the red-head to reach his hand up and slap him repeatedly.

I wonder if Reno could stop himself or if I’d have to send in Rude.

“He just won’t listen to me.” Raphael offers as though I’ve asked a question.

I wish he wouldn’t be so shocked by my replies, “As soon as he’s dead I’ll reassign you a better partner.”

His sigh is heavier than mine ever are. “If you’re so sure he’s going to die why are you wasting time training him?”

I look over. It’s a good question, but, I’m not the one wasting time. In my mind, Dean’s fucking with us all. And it will only be a matter of time before he ends up six feet under – and it will not be m ay fault. I’ve given him the tools to survive. But you can only lead an animal to water. It’s their choice to drink.

“Maybe you should ask him that.” Mikari pipes in from the computer console.

I offer a half smile, my arms cross and rest across my chest. “Regardless, if someone doesn’t do something we’re going to have to bury another suit.” I blink slowly my attention turning from the young man to Mikari, “Set up the next test.” My finger hits the intercom, “Reno come on out, I’m sending in Raph.”

Reno looks too happy to be leaving. I do not see the look he gives the young man but I bet it’s full of venom.

“I hope they kill each other.” He grumbles plopping into the chair next to Mikari.

“Then we’d have to start over.” She comments, not that it bothers her one way or another. She doesn’t have to deal with them most of the time.

_The building is full of potential employees; the president is in a meeting. You are to proceed with caution. You are the bomb squad. The mission ends when the timer has stopped._

_You Have 5 minutes to diffuse the bomb._

It sounds so simple, but it wasn’t a test or trial we had before now. I don’t know how to diffuse a bomb in a technical way. I’m good with using magic to stop the timer and throwing the damn thing out the window. If I can’t do that, I can use ice to diffuse the actual explosion, but it takes more concentration than we often have. It takes quicker reflexes than I think I have.

Reno set up a few new tests for our boys. If I die, I know who will be taking over.

“The red wire!” Raphael argues.

“They’re all red you dimwit!!”

“No!” comes the first voice, “This one.”

I’ve trained Raphael in things Dean cannot even fathom. The quietest of the pair is much more attuned to materia and reading energy. It was an easy task to teach him to do half of what I do. He’s not as proficient, he’s too logical when it comes to the execution.

He worries about every detail and it makes him slow. He pains over every law known to man, and it makes him useless.

In this job I have found that working on instinct works best. Screw the natural law and order of things, with materia, if you believe it can happen – it can. It’s that simple. And I don’t pretend to live in some higher existence. If it feels right, do it.

They continue to fight over which wire should be cut, the timer slowly beeping away. They’re lucky this is a mock test. I’m unlucky that they’ve never passed the teamwork part of these exams.

“Dean, I’m your partner.” Raphael finally says, his boot impacts with Dean’s skull kicking him over. “Start acting like it.” He has a generally calm temper, but he gets sick of being ignored, “Otherwise I’ll fucking kill you myself.”

He takes the cutters from Dean and cuts the wire he had been arguing about. The timer stops.

 _Exercise Complete_.

Dean looks bewildered, more so that Raphael had been right.

“How did you know?”

His partner shakes his head, “I felt it.”

It’s an odd thing when you can read the electrical waves of a test. It’s an odd thing when you use that knowledge to predict a test. But it looks like Raphael is starting to understand what I’ve been trying to tell him.

“I’m all you’ve got Dean. You keep up with this,” His eyes narrow as he pulls his partner to his feet, “And Leader’s going to kill you.”

“Maybe.” Dean agrees, but I don’t believe he understands this fully.

Reno and Mikari look at me, and they’ve been working together for far too long. You can always tell because they speak in unison, “What do you think Leader?”

“That they were lucky.” I reply, “I’d prefer that they were _good_.”

“Sometimes luck is all we’ve got.” Mikari offers, “We should take what we can get.”

“They’ll have to grow into it some day.” Reno agrees.

I know this already, but, I’m not sure they can survive each other.


	20. If You Needed Love

I like the sound of everything going according to plan. I like that I am on top of the world despite my body screaming this is the point of no return. And I reason this screaming should have been going off in my head long ago. It’s taken this long to catch up and I’m surprised any of us are still functioning on a level that might be considered normal.

But we’re the Turks.

And we don’t miss a beat.

The warehouse is littered with bodies, trash, and blood. The scent annoys me – an odd mix of iron and gasoline. I’m tired of blood, I’m tired of gunfire, I’m just tired in general and this always seemed so much easier in the past. I assume because I always had a partner. There was always someone there to make sure things went according to plan, and even when I worked solo…

 _”How depressing.”_ I think, because I’ve tried to banish this. And I’ve tried to work through my job. Just do what’s needed go home at the end of the day. Survive.

I look up to the sky shielding my eyes from the sunlight and give the heaviest sigh I’ve given in some time. It relieves what I need it too.

Even when I worked solo, Tseng was there. I hadn’t realized how dependant I was on him, and I can’t help but think everyone else is too. My steps are slow and even, the smell of cigarette smoke is more annoying than anything else I have had to deal with today.

“When did you start?” I’m more accusing than curious.

Raphael gives a small shrug, “A few weeks ago.”

As thought its nothing or common knowledge. It very well could have been other and I wouldn’t have known, simply because I don’t care to keep an eye on my boys at all times. I train them to be independent, but this may not be something I can easily look passed.

I scoff, “Before or after the bank job?”

He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath as memories fly through his mind. I feel the insecurity the conversation has brought up. I feel the truth before he can answer. He’s still upset Dean left him all alone, he’s still upset he missed the shot, and most of all, he’s upset that Reno had ridiculed him for it.

“After.”

I want to ask if the pressure is that much. That he can’t bear without some sort of horrible habit. I’ve done worse and I think my stress reliever is a day at the shooting range. Hell, I’d probably made Reno’s life a nightmare more than I should have because I was too tense. And lately, I’ve found better ways to deal with the stress and irritation from this job. It’s better to try something productive after I’ve destroyed a world or too.

“It’s my only vice.” Raphael responds he’s half pleading me to let him keep it.

“Then you only have one virtue.” I retort. It’s silly to try and keep balance, especially since we’re so accustomed to knocking people down.

We strive to tip the scale in _our_ favor. As long as we’re on top, we’re balanced and it’s a sad way to live. If I stopped to think about it, I’d scold myself. I’d yell and scream and tell me to stop being so foolish. But I know that the world needs balance. Because for every action there is an opposite and equal reaction.

 

He gives a nod as though he’s known where this conversation is going. “That’s being in the Turks.”

I shake my head, chuckling and despite agreeing on every level respond, “No, that’s a vice too.”

Because no one but the Turks think this way. No one understands us, and we plague their streets. We do it, so they don’t have too.

“Then I have more good qualities than I give myself credit for.” He concludes. He’s keeping up with my pace and I’m growing increasingly annoyed with his smoke.

I understand it in some sense, I’m sure it calms his nerves after being stuck with Dean all day. But I don’t approve. It’s disgusting and annoying, and now I’m going to smell like it.

I stop and look at him long and hard. He knows the gaze well.

“Get rid of it.”

His eyes flick to his hand. He gives a large sigh, deciding its best not to take another puff. He flicks it away and continues passed me to the helicopter where Dean is sitting silently and impatiently in the pilot’s seat.

I watch as the cigarette lands into the liquid we’d been sub consciously avoiding. And I don’t know who did it, or if its fate, but it lights up. The warehouse is on fire, and I couldn’t have planned this any better. Everything I do is so intricately tied to others that when I do one thing they do two too keep up, and in the end we have a beautiful harmony.

And the discontent makes us smile. It eases our pain and troubles. It’s the only way we fee _safe_ \- to know we’ve taken everyone else our of their comfort zone, because we live in the shadows we know all the secrets.

Fate is not lost to us, and she serves us with a morbid sense of humor.

I climb into the chopper, I sit across from Raphael. I’m still quite displeased he smoked near me. I have half a mind to beat the living daylights out of him, but irritation turns quickly to our pilot.

“That took you long enough.” He half shouts back.

And I’m up with my face right next to his. “You could have done it faster; we had to kill people you know.” My eyes widen then lesson and he looks away from me. I’m being condescending, “I think you’re better suited to be a chauffeur.” I sit back down half yelling back, “And make it quick, I need to change.”

If they’re looking for me to treat them better since they’ve been in this job for a few weeks without my constant instruction, they’re looking in the wrong place.

I do not give misplaced sympathy or false hope.

 **Then Ask for Love**  
The call button was not as annoying before I was leader. We’ve rushed up before we understand what’s going on. We’re not intimidating in groups. I walk at the tail, despite the fact I should be the head, but I can’t see the point of standing in front of everyone wit their hand guns drawn and ready to fire.

I barely glance at Hikou as we pass each other in the doorway. She looks so confident and sure of herself. It’s something I haven’t had myself these last few days. And when I step into the office I see that Rufus is somewhat agitated.

I can’t help it when I stand in front of his desk and cross my arms. I can’t help it when the sarcasm rolls off my tongue in what I pretend is an appropriate response.

“You rang, sir?”

I glance back at Reno and Rude to avoid Rufus’ gaze. But they understand me, choosing to usher out and stand by the door. We all know Rufus’ ‘We’ve got a problem’ look, despite his cool exterior, we have learned to pick this up. We have learned that the silent cold stare means something big is coming – even when we don’t want to deal with it.

He ignores my sarcasm. I don’t get the niceties a lot of other people do. Not when it comes to a meeting in this office. Not when it comes down to my job.

I do not take the seat because it is not offered. I am only here for orders, and since I am never hear for pleasantries, I do not know them. I do not know the mask of kindness and grace he has.

I do not get the mask of greater good. I am inclined to believe because it doesn’t get any darker in the Shinra underbelly than it does for the Turks. They just don’t care, we are not used the limelight.

And I’d like to keep it that way.

But certainly, I know a little boy who always has his way. And if not for the fact that he was a fully grown man, I’d ask if he needed someone to hold his hand to cross the street.

“There’s a problem,” Rufus takes a moment to look at the item on the desk.

I know my eyes should follow his and when they don’t he looks at me as though I’m speaking in half sentences. As though I’m with holding information. But I know what he’s thinking so I don’t ask for details.

“Take care of it as soon as possible.”

 _It?_ I nod half scoffing, thought it seems more like I understand what or better yet who he might be talking about. But the word ‘it’ brings a boil to my blood. Because I’ve let it slipped my mind we’re all pawns.

I’ve spent too much time pretending to be someone important that I forget our dark suits denote nothing more than shadow. I’ve spent too much time playing this game.

My response is natural, as it should be.

“Understood.”

He looks at me for a moment, half inquisitive if I want the details or not. But this is where Tseng and I differ, I don’t need them. I read things and people better than Tseng did. Rufus is content with the two seconds of silence that have passed he returns to his work as though I am not there.

I know when to take my leave and do so without a word. Reno and Rude are on either side of me.

“Reno, round up Dean and Raphael, I have a mission for them.”

Even though he doesn’t know what the mission is, Reno protests, “You’re sending the kids.”

“They all grow up sometime, _papa_.” I chastise. But this is the only way I can wrap my mind around the situation. It’s the only way I can get anything out of it.

His shock quickly returns to the irritation I know well. “Keep it down, Princess.” He slides his key card into the slot, the door opens with a ding and I step down the staircase with Rude. He’ll be taking the elevator just to get away from me.

It’s better that I part with Reno, Rude never asks details. When we meet in my office the three are waiting, two brimming with excitement. Reno has probably told them that they’ll be heading out on a mission; he’s probably made it glamorous, so that when I divulge details I look like the bad guy.  
It becomes one big game to us. We detach easier knowing that no one gets hurt, because we only meant it in good fun.

I pick up a file form my desk and hold it up before speaking. There’s a small pause as I try to decide if I should smile or not.

“Reno, Rude, you’re dismissed.”

Our good fun just comes with detonators and targets, blood, and destruction. It’s a packaged deal to add a smirk or sarcasm.

The look on Reno’s face mirrors that my choice was the right one as Rude takes the file from my hand. His lively partner grumbling about women in charge and there were better uses for them.

I sit at my desk, Dean and Raphael’s eyes following me.

“As for the two of you,” I’m not one hundred percent sure I should be writing this up. I should because it’s my job, but my body and mind are in disagreement. “You’ll be taking the newest mission.”

 _The newest_ usually denoting the best and most important.

“Hit,” I say to inquiring eyes, more so Raphael’s than Dean’s. The taller seems to slump over the chair as he awaits details he doesn’t want to hear. “I am entrusting this to you, as your first hit. It’s simple really,” But I know it’s not. “You’ll be unaccompanied, it’s just the two of you – you’ll need to be careful.”

I wait for _”We’re turks.”_ from Dean but there is only silence.

It was standard procedure to keep files on Shinra Employess; despite that 99% of the information was bullshit. I do not have Hikou’s because Turks don’t exist. It would make this easier to say if I did. But since I do not, I swallow my pride.

“Your target,” my hands fly across the key board, accessing the Shinra Database. A solemn profile loads onto the screen before them. She’s been known as many things in Shinra history, but they do not know her as I have.

Raphael grumbles, “The soldier director?”

Piqued curiosity and enthusiasm are not enough to make them want to do this.

Dean sounds like a child who has been told to go to bed, “Do we have too?”

“An order’s an order.” I’m not going to pretend that I believe they can do this. I’m not going to pretend like I have some sort of plan for them.  
“Unfortunately.” Raphael comments under his breath before straitening his posture, “Are you sure you want us to do this?”

 

“Positive,” I don’t smile. I don’t even look over at them as I begin to make up the mission file. The printer goes off behind me, the documents are still warm when I shove them into an envelope and hand them over. “You’re to get to work immediately.”

The one thing about them that I can count on is that this will all make sense when it’s done.

The two leave in the same pattern as the predecessors – one reading the other grumbling. But I find this to be relaxing and I shouldn’t. Days come and go, and I don’t think we’re really meant to enjoy them all.

I want to leave them with words of wisdom, call them back and warn them of the danger. I think they’re smart enough to pick up on it, I think they’re smart enough to know that this is not something anyone wants to do.

This is the only way I can make sense of the situation, because, I can’t fathom how to tell Hikou what we’re supposed to do. And I know that Dean and Raphael will be the only two who can’t kill her. They’re the only two who aren’t attached in any sort of way, and it’s all I can do to buy time until a better solution works its way in my mind.

I just hope they are trained well enough for the risk.


	21. He won't Come Around Here Anymore

I have not given everything I have. I am trying to detach, but I still feel it. I know when it’s gone wrong; looking out the window holds no peace for me.

The dark reflection that peers back at me gives little comfort, urging me that the price has been paid. That death should be a sweet symphony and that it is better to die young before knowing the heartbreaks of age. Hades has a wicked smile, he hopes to add two more to his kingdom, but I shall remain defiant until the end. I shall hope against myself that they are stronger than I have given them credit for.

The pale outstretched hand rests on my shoulder for a moment, a ghastly whisper that counts slowly as events that I cannot see play out. “One…”

And I do not know who has fallen first.

The smile curves in deeper into the skull with no flesh. And it is hard to see if this morbid reflection is my own, or the Lord of the Dead. And do not find it as disturbing as I ought too.

“Two.” He just about coos in my ear, a silent, “Finally,” afterwards that makes me blink slowly.

 

The Turks time is done; we’ve been out of the standing for a long time. There is no place for us in this mayhem, and I’ve done more than I should have. I know Dean and Raphael have failed; it is why I sent them. I knew they could not do the job and when I face Rufus Shinra it will be my folly for sending such young children out.

I will pay the price for failure. Not them. And it is the only card I could play. But I know soon the castle will come crashing down, and despite my hand, for my part no effort was wasted.

But my part was not played for Rufus Shinra, and he will notice. Because I have replaced Tseng, and it works to my benefit that even Tseng had messed up. Even Tseng had gone against Shinra orders. And perhaps I’ve got too much in common with my predecessor, but I know that what happens now is on my plate, and that Rufus Shinra will not allow me to swallow this easily.

I do not know if my boys are alive, but I cannot imagine Hikou has killed them. I cannot imagine that they are in good shape either. My game has been spinning out of control for awhile now. The breaths do not come as easily as they once have; the air is thick with more than I like to admit.

Reno’s voice is unnaturally calm. It does not take a fool to figure out what I have been doing. And as the man who trained me he understands my thought process and ideals as though they were his own. He does not always agree with them.

“Leader.”

“I already know.” I look back at Reno. His expression does not seem any different than any other day. But I know he means to say that communication with the young ones has been lost. He’s awaiting orders.

And I’m not sure I have the heart to give them. Because I don’t want to know what’s happened. I do not want to admit that Hades is right.

“Look for them; at the very least we need to inform their next of kin.” But I pray they are alive, because I believe I’ve trained them better than that. I’ve done it before, I’ve survived and if I can, they can too. “Stay clear of the battle field, it’s not place for the Turks.”

 _Impossible reasoning._ it echoes and I know Hades has retreated back to the depths of my mind.

Reno has left to find his partner; he will do only as he’s told. He will find my boys, dead or alive. He will be honest, he will tell me, and should the worst have befallen them, only Reno will have the attitude to say. He will be the only one with the tongue to scold me.

I cannot decide which idea is more horrible, that they have survived or that they have died. I become nauseous and I cannot recall when I felt so deeply attached. But I cannot imagine how I could have stayed detached after all this time.

“Mideel’s a dangerous area.” Elena says taking a seat, “Are you sure it’s okay to send them?”

She does not know most of this is finished.

I bite my tongue. “They’re Turks too, Elena. I imagine you didn’t like being treated as a rookie.”

She looks at the name plate on the desk. Her face distorts into something akin to disgust. “But you sent two rookies.”

But I want to argue that only a rookie would have a problem with the boss’ orders. They don’t have time to be picky. I find it hard to be choosy, to be too logical. I do what feels most natural and my tongue has a mind of its own giving orders before my mind has fully comprehended them.

“You’ll never know if you never try,” I opt and she looks at me in a way I’ve never seen before, “I can’t hold you guys on leashes because I’m afraid you’ll get hurt. We all know the price of this job, Elena.” I glance towards the door, “No one is making you stay.”

“You’re harsher than Tseng was.”

I nod, “I have to be.” But I am unsure if this is a truth or something I have convinced myself into believing, “I do what I need too.”

Elena seems oddly content with my answer, “I was afraid you’d be too soft.”

I really am too soft. I don’t want to admit I have to make sacrifices, I want to have everything my way, and the only way to do that is to keep to the path of shadows that has been carved since the day the Turks first started.

“I’m Leader for a reason.” I slowly reply, “What did you need Elena?”

“I just wanted to express my concern.”

“I’ve heard it and I’ll consider your words for now.” I busy myself with signatures, “A lot is riding on this mission of theirs, Elena. Don’t lose hope – even rookies get lucky.”

She smiles her fears calmed. “Of course, I’ll be leaving now.”

The door clicks shut softly behind her. And I am glad it was not Mikari that came in. I am glad it was not Mikari who had said the words, because Mikari can see right through me. When my office has fallen silent of the energies of my passing Turks and my thoughts, I can only think to say.

“You better not fuck this up.”

But at this point, I’m not even sure who I’m scolding anymore.


	22. Skip...

I pray that whatever deity keeps me alive has kept them alive. I pray as the anger threatens to over take my body. I keep my eyes closed; I do not wish to face the uncertainty. I do not know the future. Not of this world and lately not for myself. I do not expect to be forgiven. I do not know how much longer I can hold out with the hope they are somehow alive.

When Hades reassures me everything is well, feelings of certainty become thick. And I hate to think that we have differing opinions of ‘well’. Alexander is silent, he hums a song I do not quite recognize, but I draw strength and peace from it. I may have resolved this without realizing it.

To hope against fate that these boys are built of something more is nothing short of stupid. It’s foolish and I’m more attached than I want to be. And I know them well enough to know whatever truth may come out of this.

The realization comes slowly. A deep breath relieves something that might relate to stress. And I can’t imagine why I’m not sad. I do not understand why I am not mourning.

“What are you hoping we find, Leader?” Reno inquires over the PHS.

He’s on speaker so that I can still keep up with my tasks. I cannot be attached to the thing all day, but he needs certain locations.

“Bodies.” I answer, “Preferably alive.” I add, but when he scoffs – I realize how absolutely how childish I must sound.

“I can’t guarantee anything.” He responds. But when I sigh, he realizes how much he hopes for the same thing.

“Reno,” I sit down and I don’t know how I’ve become so calm, “The only certainty in life is Death. I expect no guarantees from mortals. I just want you to do your job to the best of your ability.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.” Rude’s voice is reassuring and Reno echoes the words.

“Yup, no problem.”

I can smile now. Air fills my lungs as though it has been a foreign thing the last few days. I shake my head; I know where my loyalties lie and where they ought to be. What I should be doing and what I’m not doing.

“Am I inhuman?” My eyes meet Mikari as she sits.

She thinks for a moment, “If you’re worried about the kids, don’t be.”

“But Hikou is beyond their skill level. Noah too.” I say.

“You wouldn’t be leader if you didn’t have the instincts for it.”

My mouth opens only to close again, “And perhaps I’ve let too much cloud my judgment.”

Mikari’s head shakes, “No, I think you’re overanalyzing things we have no control over. You sent them, they did their best, and then that’s all we can ask for.”

And she means to say we do not control how others work or behave. That we cannot predict everything. As long as Dean and Raphael have tried they have done their best, they have fulfilled their roles.

I’m in the wrong job to expect peace.

“Tell me something Mikari.”

She nods, “Sure.”

“Am I a fool to believe they are alive?”

Mikari is least likely to value a human life. She is least likely to sympathize with children.

“I think you are only a fool when you go against what you honestly believe.” She pauses for a moment trying to decide the best way to say her words, “You’re the leader, and if you believe they are somehow alive, then they must be. Because, you don’t make that mistake. You know when someone lives and when someone dies.”

“They’ve failed.”

“You say they **fail**.” Mikari repeats, “But not once have you said they were dead.”

“It would take an awful lot for them to have survived the encounter.” I reason.

Mikari agrees, “I know, but you trained them didn’t you? You could do things others couldn’t and you passed that on to Raphael.”

I nod slowly, “Yes, but I can’t say he learned it for sure.”

“Then I’d say that’s his folly, not yours.” Mikari says simply. A shrug passes through her shoulders and she sits comfortably in a chair that most people hate.

“But the leader always accepts responsibility.” I conclude, “And I think I will. When I see them again, I hope they’ll understand.”

I have to face the fact that I could have sent anyone and it would have been difficult. It would have been troublesome. Any one of us could have died. We do not have the strength of SOLDIERs.

But I’ll be damned if we die so easily. Because I’ve still not given into the thought they are dead.

And I am unsure if it’s because I trust my boys or because I know Hikou wouldn’t.

My head feels dizzy.

“Leader?” Mikari stands.

I think I’m going to pass out in my chair. “There’s something wrong, Mikari.”

My chest tightens and I feel familiar hands tightening around my throat. I can hear Dean’s angry voice screaming at the top of his lungs. I feel the distraught energy of life that connects us all.

The speaker is on.

“We found one of them.”

It’s Rude.

We are increasingly oblivious to the world that has dominion over us.

Mikari pipes over the speaker, “Which one?”

“Dean.” Rude answers, “We have to administer first aid here; otherwise he won’t make it back. He’s not as banged up as we’d thought, but his condition is still bad.” But I know Rude’s not telling me everything. I know I won’t get more of an answer than this.

I have forgotten how to speak. Because I do not know how to react to good luck. And injured or beaten, alive, I am uncertain how it correlates to good fortune. But it eases a place in my heart I’ve long ignored.

“Thank you Alexander,” I mumble. I cannot bring myself to ask about Raphael.


	23. 3:18

Things slowly come to an end whether we are aware of them or not. It all comes back around and my boys barely live, Dean with severe mako poisoning and Raphael’s wounds have begun to heal. He’s impatient and constantly yelling at the nurses. It seems he had listened to me well. I do not know the details but when he thanked me, when he apologized for failing, I knew he’d be around longer than I want to admit.

Dean’s recovery is not as hopeful. But we still talk to him; we sit down and let him know of the day’s happenings. Raphael more than the rest of us, and I know every time I enter the room his actions become more sporadic. If his anger fuels him to a quicker recovery, if his hate for me makes him better, I’ll be that tool. It’s the least I can do.

“He’s still mad at me I see.” I nonchalantly comment as Dean’s babbling becomes increasingly aggravated.

“I don’t know if it’s that.” Raphael disagrees, “We’re both pretty sore we failed.”

It makes me smile they are angry at themselves and each other, at their failure, instead of me. But I suppose if I raise boys to believe I am the strongest and I raise them to know I have complete trust in them. They can only be angry with their shortcomings and not my half backhanded reasoning to help out a friend.

“We all fail at least once.”

Raphael looks up at me his mouth asking a question I know. One I had asked too long ago, and it is only when his youthful eyes look so curious, I realize that I’m getting really fucking old.

“Even me.” I shrug my hands and formality falling back to a place that should not exist in our world. We’re way too tense and I’m sick of that feeling. “But we move on.”

Raphael registers the words quickly and carefully. And while he is hiding his shock well I feel the tickle of familiarity and acceptance in his blood. If we are allowed one failure and we achieve it quickly it means we are finally part of the Turks. His small smile reassures me that things will be well.

“It won’t happen again,” Raphael says, “I’ll exceed your expectations.”

“Mmmmmm…tttt….mmm.” Dean tries to speak his head bouncing too and fro as his eyes burn with their trademark stubbornness. I know he means to agree with Raphael.

I wave them off, the lights are getting too me. They’re annoyingly bright as always and I have other things to do, other meetings to attend and most of all a very angry boss to appease.

The door shuts behind me and halfway down the hall I find my voice to respond, “You already have.” There’s an extra skip to my step to know everything in my _home_ should be well. I am stopped in the hall by Rude. He hands me a paper and scurries away as though he had never been here.

And I recognize the quick half-assed writing as Reno’s way of telling me to hurry it up. But I am not too fond of Shinra events. They’re all the same and generic. I bet half of the faces that appear are stock and I won’t know any of them because I ought to only know people who are about to die.

There’s too much going on and I only catch the glance Rufus gives me. It’s disapproving and I’ve already thought of a way out. Because I’ve got to protect him, and to have Rufus know what I’m thinking would serve only to hurt him. He will not understand my thoughts and at some point as I decline a glass of wine, I realize I may not understand my line of reasoning.

Everyone is decorated well. You cannot tell the puppets from their masters. I find the lines blurred as threads tie us all together. It is hard to tell if Rufus controls all the dolls here or vice versa and the thought makes a smile crack on my lips.

Reno looks oddly bored despite the free food and drinks, Mikari’s not even here. But I know we’re probably one of the very few divisions still working regardless of where we are. I cannot imagine how Reno had gotten suckered into this. Unless he still insists on acting as second.

We are not dolls.

I am just a bit more. I am here as a shadow, it is a light I am accustomed too and I thank Alexander that if this gets too tough no one is going to notice that I have slipped away. Things slowly return to a world I recognize.

Part glasses, suits, and faces of people that will not exist in the morning – it’s an odd feeling to see it all falling back into place. And the fact that these faces are not people I know brings nostalgia for earlier days.

I shake my head, the energy through the room shifts quickly. I adjust enough shifting weight onto my left foot as I cross my arms.

Something is amiss and I’ll not place it until later. For the first time in a long time it seems like things might be able to go right. What causes this feeling to rise is unknown to me. But today, the heart of the Turks beats as it always does.

We have returned to our routine.

Tomorrow will hold paper work and files, yelling and information. I’ll have to give out orders and missions, brief and debrief and it all settles into the back of my mind. My eyes are fixated on Rufus. I probably wouldn’t take a bullet for him, and I know Reno’s not going to put himself in extra danger with me here.

I sigh at the realization that I’m probably the only one in any division still working.


	24. 3:21

**3:21**

Tomorrow has not come because I have not slept. And I will not get more than fifteen minutes between a meeting with Rude and an irritated Reno as I turn to lock my office door. My hand pauses on the knob and I turn slowly assuming the worst has happened as portrayed by the angry shadow on the door.

Reno’s eyes burn in such a way I think Tseng has been proclaimed dead all over again. But before I can speak he has spit out his words.

They sting. I fight the shiver racing through my body as his mouth snaps open.

“It’s done. And not by Turk hands.”

I suppose, though I’m not sure, that is what pisses him off the most. He seems childish as he looks for a proper way to scold me.

He looks at me accusingly, as though I have planned this. But the wheels in my head are not so fine tuned as to think or behave like a Goddess. I do not predict divinity and their coming and going is still news to me.

I do not respond because I want to believe he could be talking about anything. That he could be talking about anyone. And though I know there is only one person he can be speaking about, I do not register her name until it falls on my ears in a mix of pity and anger.

“Hikou Shinohara is dead.”

I do not know what he expects me to say or do. But I feel light headed as the words settle in. I do not want this truth.

“Is there a ceremony?”

I plan to pay my respects. At the very least Rufus will need a body guard or two. I can bend a reason to be there.

“’Course!” Reno replies as though I’m stupid, but it is his irritation that shines through the most. But I can’t quite tell who or what has him most aggravated. “There always is.”

And I doubt we’re invited.

I’m not on the guest list, but Rufus Shinra has a plan for this. And I know how far his hold reaches and why. He’s there, but I do not listen to the lies he spouts. And if this is the only holy ground any one of us will ever know, I’m positive it’s being defiled.

Rude stands opposite of me. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. It’s hard to tell through his sunglasses and I wish I could be as firm as he is. There’s a small breeze, people and uniforms I do not quite recognize.

Shallow words and tears, lost pride and defeat, and the only thing I know is the tension in the air for what might happen next.

Part of me feels like I should have been able to do more. And I know it would have come at the expense of myself. There is something akin to heartbreak spreading through the boys she once held in her palm, I feel it, or perhaps I’m reading into the situation too much.

But I never considered her an enemy.

And that was why I could not kill her.

That is why I sent Dean and Raphael.

I respected her goal and ideals.

I wanted to see her succeed. I wanted her to break from the cycle we are all chained too.

More than anything Hikou Shinohara was my friend.

I am here to pay my respects regardless of the faces that do not want me here. I linger among the crowds as I always do. I do not share words with anyone but Rude.

“When you’ve got the time,” I pause for a moment, “keep an on eye on them.”

Rude nods slowly. “I’ll relay this to the others.”

It’s as simple as that in our world. Hikou didn’t take my boys from the world, and if it’s the only thing I can do to look after hers – she can consider it done.

It’s an odd feeling to have creep back up on you. I can’t imagine how that phone call had spiraled into this. I can’t fathom how one infiltration led to an all out war and one woman’s rise and fall from grace.

But I do not question the way things turn out. In my mind, everything happens for a reason.

I kneel down. I have no flowers to offer today. But sometime in the future I’d like to leave an Iris. Maybe just one, at least it would be something. I can only offer a half smile along with my heavy sigh.

I do not know what to say, but I want to wish her peace. I want to believe she’s finally free.

Until someone else can prove me wrong, I will remain the optimist.

“I hope you’ve found peace now.”

**End Track**

**Author's Note:**

> More old stories because Hikou


End file.
